BURKE CO., N,C. 

Or.R.LAB£RI\IETHY,Pres't. 




5?///;^.;/^^ 






mumiDi! 



LIFE AND CHARACTER 



OF THE 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE ; 



WITH 



SPECIMENS OP HIS POETRY AND LETTERS, 



AND AN 



ESTIMATE OF HIS GENIUS AND TALENTS, 



COMPARED WITH THOSE OF HIS 



GREAT CONTEMPORARIES. 



WITH AUTOGRAPHS, 



BY JAMES PKK'R, ESQ. 



PHILADELPHIA : 

PUBLISHED BY \BRAHAM SMALL 

1835. 






In Exchange 
Duke University 
JUL I 2 1933 



To 

JOHN WILSON CROKER, Esq. 

LL.D. F.R.S. M.P. &c, 8cc. 

SECRETARY OF THE ADMIRALTY. 



SIR, 

AN attempt to sketch the hTe and character 
of one of the greatest men of modern times, may, 
wth peculiar propriety, be addressed to one of 
bis distinguished countrymen, who is himself 
connected with that part of Ireland where Mr. 
Burke spent his earlier days; who acquired 
his rehsh for learning in the same venerable 
academic retreat; who possesses much of his 
taste, much of his love for the fine arts, much 
of his literary talents, and no inconsiderable share 
of his laborious devotion to public business. 

That it is worthy of your acceptance, or of its 
distinguished subject, I am by no means vain 
enough to believe. To render full justice to his 
various genius and acquirements, demands some 
of his own powers; no wonder, therefore, if 



IV DEDICATION. 

under so illustrious a buithen my pen should 
break down. But the intention at least may 
be excused by the admirers of one, whom to 
remember is to honour; and whom to honour 
is but another name by which to express our 
reverence for those veneiable institutions, which, 
as forming the pride and boast of our country, he 
laboured to defend; and which, throuejh their 
influence on the national spirit, prov* d the salva- 
tion of Europe in the great struj>i;gle now happily 
past. I have the honour to be, Sir, 
"With much respect, 

Your most faithful. 

And obedient servant, 

Jas. Prior. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 
Preface - - - ix 

List of Writings of Mr, Burke ,- - svii 

CHAPTER L 

Family and Birth of Mr. Burke. — Studies and Poetical 
Exercises.— Entry at the Middle Temple - 17 

CHAPTER II. 

First Impressions of London and England generally.— 
Contemplates an Attempt for the Lt)gic Professorship 
of Glasgow. — First avowed Publications - 39 

CHAPTER IIL 

Abridgment of English History. — Annual Register.— -Ac- 
quaintance with Dr. Johnson, Mrs Anne Pitt, Hume, 
Lord Charlemont, Gerrard Hamilton, Barry, Goldsmith 6S 

CHAPTER IV. 

Appointed Private Secretary to the Marquis of Rocking- 
ham.— Success in Parliament. — Gregories. — -Pamphlet 
in Reply to Mr, Grenviile.— Junius.-— Letters to Barry 90 



VI CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER V. 

Page. 
Mr. Fox. — Pamphlet on the Discontents. — Parliamentary 
Business. — Character of the House of Commons. — 
Speech of the 19th of April, 1774. — Goldsmith. — Barry. 
— Johnson and Burke. — Election for Bristol - 13S 



CHAPTER VI. 

Parliamentary Business. — Anecdotes of Drs. Franklin, 
Priestley, and Mr. Hartley. — Epitaph on Mr. Dowdes- 
well. — Letters to the Sheriffs and two Gentlemen of 
Bristol. — To liord Charlemont, Barry, Mr. Francis, 
Dr. Robertson. — Statue proposed in Dublin. — Admiral 
Keppel - - - 168 



CHAPTER VII. 

Economical Reform. — Intercedes for mercy towards the 
Rioters. — Rejection at Bristol. — Opposed to Mr. Fox on 
the Repeal of the Marriage Act. — Mr. Sheridan. — 
Change of Ministry - . - - 204 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Appointed Paymaster General. — Lord Shelburn. — Coali- 
tion. — India Bill.— Mr. Pitt. — Mr. Burke elected Lord 
Rector of the University of Glasgow. — Reception in the 
new Parliament. — Letter to Miss Shackleton - 234 



CHAPTER IX. 

Speech on the Nabob of Arcot's Debts. — Impeachment of 
Mr. Hastings. — Visit to Ireland by Mr. Burke.— Mr. 



CONTENTS, Vii 

Page. 
Hardy's Account of him. — Preface to Bellendenus. — 
Epitaph on the Marquis of Rockingham - 261 

CHAPTER X. 

Regency Question. — French Revolution. — Mr- Burke's 
Opinions immediately formed. — His Correspondents. — 
Rupture with Mr. Sheridan. — Mr. Gerrard Hamilton 292 

CHAPTER XL 

Publication of Reflections on the Revolution in France.— 
Thomas Paine. — Letter to a Member of the iNational 
Assembly. — Rupture with Mr. Fox. — Appeal from the 
Kev/ to the Old Whigs. — ^Jury Bill of 179 L — Anecdotes 32^ 

CHAPTER XIL 

Writings connected with French Affairs, and the Catholic 
Claims. — Sir Joshua Reynolds. — Negro Code. — Letter 
on the Death of Mr. Shackleton. — War. — Conduct of 
the Minority, and Policy of the Allies. — Letter to Mr. 
Murphy. — Preface to Brissot's Address ~ 354 



CHAPTER XIIL 

Junction of the Old Whigs with Ministry. — Mr. Burke 
loses his Son, and excessive Griet. — Letters to W. Smith, 
Esq., to Sir Hercules Langrishe (2d), to W. Elliot, Esq. 
— Thoughts on Scarcity. — Receives a Pension. — Letter 
to a Noble Lord. — Letters on a Regicide Peace 



Vm CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Page. 
Report concerning Mr. Burke.— Decline of his Health.— 
Letter to Mrs. Leadbeater. — His Death and Disposal of 
his Kesidence and Estate — His Person. — Conversation. 
— Wit. — Piety. — Moral Character. — Zeal in Public 
Measures - - - 412 



CHAPTER XV. 

Contemporary Opinions entertained of Mr. Burke. — His 
Eloquence. — His Writings. — His Leading Principles as 
a Statesman.-^Mr. Burke, Mr. Fox, Mr. Pitt - 438 



PREFACE. 



Few things interest the curiosity of mankind more, or 
prove so instructive in themselves, as to trace the pro- 
gress of a powerful mind, by the honourable exertion of 
its native energies, rising in the teeth of difficulties from 
a very private condition to stations of public eminence and 
trust, with the power to influence the destiny of nations. 
Such a person, as sprung not from the privileged few, but 
from among the mass of the people, we feel to be one of 
ourselves. Our sympathies go along with him in his 
career. The young imagine that it may possibly be their 
own case ; the old, that with a little more of the favour of 
fortune it might have been theirs ; and at any rate we are 
anxious to ascertain the causes of his'^uperiority, to trea- 
sure up his experience, to profit by ^hat he experienced 
to be useful, to avoid what he found to be disadvanta- 
geous. And the lesson becomes doubly instructive to 
that large class of society who are born to^e the archi- 
tects of their own fortune, when it impresses the great 
moral truth, that natural endowments, however great, re- 
ceive their highest polish and power, their only secure 
reward, from diligent study — from continued, unwearied 
application — a plain, homely faculty, within the reach of 
all men. one which is certain to wear well, and whose 



X PREFACE. 

fruits bear testimony to the industry of the possessor, and 
to the intrinsic value of the possession. Of the great 
resuhs of such endow ments, fostered and directed by such 
cultivation, we have not a more distinguished example 
than Edmund Burke. 

To an attentive reader of our political and literary 
history during the sixty years past, no name will nmre 
frequently interest him, for the lar<^e space he occupied 
in public esteem, for the original genius he posseb-ed, 
the diversified talents he displayed, the great events with 
which the whole of his public life was connected, and 
the alternate eulogy and abuse with which, pdriicul.aiy 
since the period of the French Revolution, hib nume has 
been assailed. 

Two biographies of this remarkable man have been 
written; one a quarto volume of slander, dictated by liie 
most envenomed party spirit; the other more just to his 
deserts ; but both very deficient in facts, and particularly 
so as to his earlier lire, very little being known or stated 
of him until his entry into the House of Commons. Ob- 
vious as this deficiency is, accident alone suggested to 
the present writer the attempt to clear up part of this 
obscurity. Contemplating his qualities and career as very 
extraordinary and successful, he drew up a character of 
him at some length, in the autumn of 1819, which being 
thrown by for above two years without further notice, 
came then under the examination of a friend, who recom- 
mended that it should be enlarged ; for that many parts 
would be obscure to the general reader, many liable to 
mistake or nasapplication, and many nearly unintelligible, 
if not grounded upon a memoir. This labour was un- 
dertaken certainly without regret. Some new materials 
were already in the writer's hands, and by application to 
various friends in Ensfland and Ireland, a variety of 



PREFACE. XI 

Others, chiefly unknown to the world and of undoubted 
authenticity, were procured ; and as illustrative of some 
of his opinions, and criticisms, and style of correspond- 
ence, both of the unceremonious and more formal de- 
scriptions, a few of his letters have been added, several 
of them little or not at all familiar to the public eye. 

An extended biography, embracing all his public la- 
bours, was not deemed necessary. It may be said, in- 
deed, that to write the life of a great statesman and ora- 
tor, without giving the substance of his speeches in Par- 
liament, is scarcely to do him justice ; and were they to 
be found no where else, the remark would be just. But 
these make part of the history of the country ; a few of 
the principal are to be found in his Works, and the re- 
mainder, in a very imperfect form indeed, as all such 
things must be, in the four volumes collected and pub* 
lished by a different editor. And independent of this, the 
appalling form of a quarto or two, or even three quartos, 
to which such a design would inevitably extend, was suf- 
ficient of itself to deter the writer from such an attempt, 
bearing in mind the observation of his eminent principal, 
that •' a great book is a great evil." His aim therefore 
was not to make a great book, but a compact one ; to 
condense within the compass of a single octavo all that 
was necessary to be known, and which many readers 
would decline to seek in the more ponderous forms al- 
luded to. In doing this he thought it better simply to 
allude to his chief parliamentary exertions, rather than to 
aim at entering into their details. 

Great as this eminent man's reputation is, it stands, as 
far as party feelings are concerned, in rather a singular 
predicament. It is well known he would not go all 
lengths with any body of men ; that he had an utter 
abhorrence of any thing resembling arrogant domination 



Xn PREFACE. 

from any quarter ; and that, by endeavourinj^ to preserve 
a certain balance of powers in the State, in different or- 
ders of the community, and in different interests, relii^ious, 
political, and commercial of the kingdom, by stepping; in 
to the assistance of the weak against the strong, which is 
after ail the duty of honest patriotism and sound wisdom, 
he incurred censure from the more violent of every class. 
He was assailed by the zealots of power for opposing the 
coercion of America, and for prosecuting Mr, Hastings ; 
by the zealots of licentious freedom, for opposing the 
French Revolution ; by zealf)ts in religion, for advocating 
the cause of the Dissenters and Roman Catholics ; and 
by other zealots in affairs of less moment. 

While therefore the two great divisions in politics, one 
more especially, think it a kind of duty to endeavour to 
write down his name for the purpose of exalting others ; 
and a more violent, though small body, known under 
various harsh and odious appellations, have sworn a kind 
of eternal enmity to his name for the overthrow of (heir 
doctrines at his hands, during the revolutionary fever, no 
special party remains on whom devolves the business of 
upholding his fame. Depreciation and abuse from his 
opponents remain uncontradicted. If he has not written 
and spoken himself into repute, nobody else perhaps can 
do it for him : nobody else certainly has attempted it. 
He is left to the buoyancy of his own merits; to sink or 
swim by intrinsic powers, " For what I have been,'' said 
he, *' I put myself upon my country ;" and among the 
educated and dispassionate part of it, he has no reason to 
complain of the decision. He has worked his way into 
general esteem, not by the applauding pens of intoxicated 
followers, but by more eloquent though less noisy advo- 
cates ; by the slow but steady and sure evolution of pub- 
lic opinion ; by the living and speaking evidences to his 



PliEFACE. Xlll 

deserts of a constitution preserved from demolition or 
inroad, an unshaken tlirone, an unpolluted altar, an un- 
plundered nobility and gentry, and the preservation of 
those moral ties and habitudes, which bind together and 
form the safeguard of the whole. 

Misrepresentation, indeed, answers its end for a time* 
And it is sometimes amusing to observe the ignorance or 
prejudice respecting Mr. Burke, on public matters, which 
prevails among many, who, at a venture, attribute to him 
any thing that happens to be unpopular at the moment — 
circumstances, in which he had no' participation or inte- 
rest, and principles, which he disclaimed. In this spirit, 
a Reverend President of a political society at Liverpool, 
not long ago, stigmatised him as a deserter from the 
cause of parliamentary reform ; more than one of the ora- 
tors of the Common Council of London repeated the ac- 
cusation, among others equally accurate ; at some of the 
county meetings he was spoken of as a sinecure place- 
man, and an enemy to liberty ; even at one of the largest 
book establishments in London, on inquiring for a volume 
in which it happened to be said there was something 
concerning him, *' A satire. Sir, I suppose," was the 
reply, as if satire was the legitimate coin with which his 
public labours deserved to be repaid. In a private com- 
pany of that rank in society where the writer least ex- 
pected to hear such observations, his motives in the im- 
peachment of Mr. Hastings were sharply arraigned by 
some members of what are called the Indian Interest^ 
though none of them could assign any thing like an 
improper motive ; in another company less select, he 
was admitted to be a most surprising man, but unhappily 
opposed to the reformation of all abuses in government ; 
in a third, he was an ingenious and able writer, but too 
jiowery in his style ; in a fourth, his political conduct 



XiV PREFACE. 

was said to be regulated by rep^ard merely to his own 
interests; in a fifth, it was a matter of charge that he had 
no private property — that he took the profits of his lite- 
rary labours — ahd at lenp;th accepted of a pension: so 
th'ciT, by this ingenious logic, the original sin of want of 
fortune was not permitted to be reined ied, either by the 
fair exertion of those talents v/ith whicli Providence had 
endowed hitn, or by the public gratitude of his country. 
All th: facts came lately under the eye and ear of the 
writer ; they are samples of what is heard every day ; and 
are only remarkable as coining from men who would 
have Ml not a little indignant at being told they were 
talking untruths or nonsense. 

Another order of persons of more influence and infor- 
mation, chiefly public writers, who have in view to exalt 
another great political name, think it necessary to their 
purpose to lower, though indirectly and circuitously, th« 
reputation of Mr. Burke. 

From these we hear of him frequently as a man of 
genius, of brilliant fancy, and amusing talents — carefully 
keeping out of view, as if they were wholly unknown, 
those higher and more profound qualities of mind which 
form his chief claims to distinction. Sometimes again, 
he is what they call a philosophical politician, meaning 
something different from a statesman : sometimes he is 
even admitted to be the greatest writer of the age, though 
with an utter oblivion of that parliamentary eloquence 
which made his name, as an orator, more celebrated on 
the continent of Europe than those of either of his two 
great rivals; which enabled him to take the lead for many 
years in the House of Commons ; and which drew the 
then unusual honour of an invitation to represent one of 
the chief cities in the kingdom. At other times, hints 
are dropped of how much better his genius would have 



PREFACE. XV 

been exerted otherwise than in politics. This opinion, 
at best is but mere trifling. We have no right to specu- 
late on what he might have been, but what he was. 
Added to an early bias towards the pursuit, there is 
perhaps little doubt but that more of the strength of his 
mind was put forth by the contentions of politics, than 
by any other species of discussion. But independent of 
this, if he has left behind in the track of life which he 
chose, more for fame than either of his contemporaries ; 
namely, the finest orations in our language, the ablest 
and most eloquent political disquisitions, the introduction 
or support of a series of important constitutional measures 
for nearly thirty years together, and a rej)utation perhaps 
above any other for practical wisdom, not resting on 
mere opinion, but on record in his speeches and writings 
— surely it savours of impertinence to say he would have 
succeeded better in any thing else. 

It is time that this ungenerous warfare against his 
fame should cease. No man intimately acquainted with 
public affairs hasijndeed been misled by it, as the debates 
in Parliament almost every night of every session testify; 
but it has served its turn pretty effectually among that 
multitude of persons, who, suspecting no artifice, take 
for granted what is told them, without undergoing the 
labour of inquiring for themselves. Should the present 
attempt enable any of these to appreciate more justly the 
powers of one to whom his country is under very impor- 
tant obligations, the writer will not deem his labour mis- 
applied. His testimony at least is impartial. He has no 
party purpose to answer; no influence to court; no interest 
to push ; except it be that common interest felt by every 
generous mind, of rendering to a distinguished and virtu- 
ous character those honours which are its due. 



LIST OF WRITINGS OF MR., BURKE. XVU 



List of the chief Writings of the Right Hon. Edmund Burke, 
arranged, as nearly as possible, in Chronological Order, with 
Reference to the Volumes of his JVorks in which they are con- 
tained ; several however, though of undoubted Authenticity, 
are not yet published among his Works. 

It may be necessary to observe, that the speeches, or notes of 
speeches, enumerated in the following list, are such only as have 
a place in his Works. Four volumes of them (not in his Works) 
have been collected and published by a different Editor, which, 
though necessarily imperfect, as being taken from casual and 
unauthorised reports, are probably the best than can now be 
procured. 

The letters specified in this list are all upon public affairs, 
some of them published soon after being written, some not ; and 
the greater number forming pamphlets of very considerable size. 



Translation of an Idyllium oF Theocritus, about 1744. 

Several Scenes of a Play, on the Subject of Alfred 
the Great, ibid. 

Ballitore, a short Poem, 1745. 

Lines on the River Blackwater, 1745. 

Translation of tlie concluding Portion of the 2d 

Georgic of Virgil, 1746. 

Lines to Mr. Richard Shackleton on his Marriage, 1748. 

And several shorter pieces still known to be in exist- 
ence. 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

In what vol . 
contained. 

Hints for an Essay on the Drama, about 1754. x 

Vindication of Natural Society, 1756. i 

Philosophical Inquiry into the Origin of our Ideas of 

the Sublime and Beautiful, 1756. i 

An account of the European Settlements in America, 

2 vols. 8 vo. 1757. 

Essay towards an Abridgment of English History, 
from the Invasion of Julius Csesar to the End of 
the Reign of King John, 1757. x 

♦Annual Register — at first the whole Work, after- 
wards only the Historical Article, 1758, &c. 

• Doul ts being still expiess.-d of his participation in this publication, facsimiles 
of his hand-writing ol" (he leceipU for the copy-money of 1761, a|luded to at page 
67, is appended to this list. 



XVlll LIST OF WRITINGS OF MR. BURKE. 

In vhatvol, 
„ , _ _, contained. 

Fragments of a Tract (75 8vo. Pages) on the Po- 
pery Laws of Ireland, 1761. IX 
Short Account of a late Short Administration, 1766. u 
Humorous Reply to the preceding, signed Whitting- 
ton, a Tallow-chandler, of Cateaton-street ; and 
Ship News for 1766; both believed to be Mr. 
Burke's, - 1766. 
Observations on a late Publication, intituled the Pre- 
sent State of the Nation, 1769. II 
Thoughts on the Cause of the present Discontents, 1770. ii 
Notes of a Speech on the Middlesex Eiection, Feb. 1771. x 

a Bill for explaining the 

Powers of Juries in Prosecutions for Libel, March, 1771. x 
Letter on the same subject for the Newspapers, 1771. x 
Notes of a Speech on tlie Acts of Umlormity, Feb. 1772. x 
on a Bill to Quiet the posses- 
sions of the Subject against Dormant Claims of 
the Church, Feb. 1772. x 
Notes of a Speech for the Relief of certain Protes- 

testant Dissenters, 1773. x 

on a bill for shortening the 

Duration of Parliament, 
Letter on the Irish Absentee Tax, to Sir 

Bingham, 
Speech on American Taxation, 
Speeches at Bristol, 
Speech on American Conciliation, 
Letter to the Marquis of Rockingham on 

posed Secession from Parliament, of Members who 
opposed the American War, Jan. 1777. ix 

Address to the King — Address to the British Colo- 
nists in North America — both on the same sub- 
ject, 1777. IX 
Letter to the Sherifts of Bristol, April 1777. in 
Letter to the Hon. C. J. Fox, on Political Affairs, 

Oct. 1777. IX 
Epitaph on Mr. Dowdeswell, 1778. 

Two Letters to Gentlemen at Bristol, on Bills rela- 
tive to the Trade of Ireland, April and May 1778. iii 
Letter to the Right Hon. Edmund Pery, Speaker of 
the Irish House of Commons, on a Bill for the Re- 
lief of the Roman Catholics of Ireland, July 1778. ix 
Letters to Thomas Burgh, Esq. in Vindication of the 
Author's Parliamentary Conduct relative to the 
Affairs of Ireland, Jan. 1780. ix 
Speech on (Economical Reform, Feb. 1780. in 



1773. 


X 


Charles 




Oct. 1773. 


XI 


April 1774. 


II 


Nov. 1774. 


III 


March 1775. 


III 


he pro- 





LIST OF WRITINGS OF MR. BURKE. XIX 

In what vol. 
contained. 

Letter to John Merlott, Esq. on the Affairs of Ire- 
land, April 1780. ix 
Letter to the Chairman of the Buckinghamshire 
Meeting, for procuring Parliamentary Reform, 

April 1780. ik 
Sketch of a Code of Laws for the Regulation of the 
Slave TraJe, and the Government of the Negroes 
in the West- India Islands, 1780. ik 

Letters and -Reflections on the Execution of the Rio- 
ters, July 1780. IX 
Speeches at Bristol, Sept. 1780. iii 
Notes of a Speech on the Marriage Act, June 1781. x 
Letter to Lord Kenmare on the Penal Laws against 

the Roman Catholics of Ireland, Feb. 1782. vi 

Notes of a Speech on a Motion for Reform in the Re- 
presentation of the Commons, May 1782. x 
Ninth Rej.'ort from a Committee of the House of 
Commons on the Administration of Justice in the 
Provinces of Bengal, Baliar, and Orissa, June 1783. xi 
Eleventh Report from the same — both intended pro- 
bably to pave the way for the India Bill, 1783. xi 
Speech on the East India Bill, Decemb. 1783. iv 
Representation to his Majesty, moved June 14th, 1784. iv 
Speech on the Nabob of Arcot's debts, Feb. 1785. iv 
Articles of charge of High Crimes and Misdemeanors 
against Warren Hastings, Esq. late Governor Ge- 
neral of Bengal, April, 1786. xi and xii 
Epitaph upon, or Character of, the Marquis of Rock- 
ingham, ^ 1787. 
Speeches on the opening of the Impeachment of Mr. 
Hastings, February 15th, l6th, 17th, 19th, occu- 
pying about four hours each day, 1788. xin 
Speeches on the Sixth Article of Charge, April 21st, 

25th, May 5th, and .7th, 1 789. xiii and xrv 

A variety of Letters and Papers (public) on the Re- 
gency Question, 1788, 1789. 
Letters to M. Menonville on the French Revolution, 

Oct. 1789. 
Substance of a Speech on the Army Estimates, Feb. 1790. v 
Reflections on the Revolution in France, Oct. 1790. v 

Character of Henry IV. of France, Jan. 1791. 

Letter to a Member of the National Assembly, Jan. 1791. vi 
Hints for a Memorial to M. Montmorin, Feb. 1791. vii 

Appeal from the New to the Old Whigs, July 1791. vi 

Letter to the Empress of Russia, Nov. 1791. ix 

Thoughts on French Affairs, Dec. 1791. vii 



XX LIST OF WRITINGS OF MR. BURKE. 

In what vol. 
contained. 

Letter to Sir Hercules Langrishe. Bart. M. P. on the 

Subject of the Roman Catholics of Ireland, Jan. 1792. vi 

Character of Sir Joshua Reynolds, Feb. 1792. 

Notes of a Speech on the Unitarian Petition, May 1792. x 

Appeal to public benevolence in favour of the desti- 
tute French Clergy, Sept. 1722. 

Heads for consideration on the Present State of Af- 
fairs, Novemb. 1792. vii 

Letter to Richard Burke, Esq. (his son) on the sub- 
ject of the Popery Laws of Ireland, 1793. ix 

Observations on the conduct of the Minority in the 

last Session of Parliament, August 1793. vii 

Remarks on the policy of the Allies, Oct. 1793. vii 

Preface to a Translation of the Address of M. Brissot 

to his Constituents, 1794. vii 

Report from the Committee appointed to inspect the 
Lords' Journals relative to their proceeding on the 
trial of Warren Hastings, Esq. : — ordered on the 
5th and 17th of March, and this important and 
elaborate paper of nearly 200 octavo pages, was 
produced by Mr. Burke, 30th April 1794. xiv 

Letter to William Smith, Esq. M. P. (now one of the 
Barons of the Court of Exchequer, in Ireland,) on 
the subject of the Popery Laws, Jan. 1795. ix 

Second Letter to Sir Hercules Langrishe, Bart., on 

the same subject. May 1795. ix 

Letter to William Elliott, Esq., occasioned by a 
Speech in the House of Lords by the * * * of * * * 
(Duke of Norfolk,) May 1795. vii 

Letter to the Right Hon. Lord Auckland, Oct. 1795. ix 

Thoughts and Details on Scarcity, Nov. 1795. vu 

Letter from the Right Hon. Edmund Burke to a no- 
ble Lord (Earl Fitzwilliam,) on the Attacks made 
upon him and his pension, in the House of Lords, 
by the Duke of Bedford, and the Earl of Lauder- 
dale, 1:^96. VIII 

Three Letters an a Regicide Peace, 1796. viii 

..^tFourth Letter on the same subject, 1797. ix 

Letter on the Affairs of Ireland, 1797. ix 

Two more octavo volumes are to be filled by the concluding 

or summing-up oration, on the impeachment, which Mr. Burke 

commenced on the 28th of May, 1794, and continued for nine 

days. 



CHAPTER I. 

Family and Birth of Mr. Burke. — Studies and Poetical 
Exercises. — Entry at the Middle Temple. 

Edmund Burke, the most extraordinary man per- 
haps of his age, and certainly so of his ccjuntry, was de- 
scended from a respectable family, long settled in the 
county of Limerick, in Ireland, and enjoying a consider- 
able estate there, but forfeited during one of those civil 
convulsions which have so often caused property to 
change possessors in that country. This took place 
about 1641. 

His great grandfather retired to a small estate which 
still remained to him, adjoining to the village of Castle- 
town Roche, in the county of Cork, about four miles 
from Donneraile, five or six from Mallow, and some- 
thing more from the old castle of Killmacleny, once the 
residence, though now in ruins, of the poet Spenser; 
and where he wrote part of his Fairy Queen ; the super- 
stitions, scenery, and romantic traditions of that part of 
the country supplying him unquestionably with number- 
less hints for that great work. This property continuing 
in the Burke family, came into the possession of Edmund 
in 1765, on the death of his elder brother Garrett, who 
died on the 27th of April in that year, and lies buried on 
the spot ; it was sold by him in 1792 or 1793, for some- 
thing less than 4000/. ; the annual value at that period 
was under SOU/, but of late it has produced above 700/, 
per annum. 
C 



18 LIFE OF THL 

His father, Richard Burke, or Bourke, as the name 
was orisjinally spelt, and as many families, particularly 
that of the Earl of Mayo (the founder of which was also 
a Richard Bourke, LLD. who died in 1727) still spell 
it, was a protestant, and educated for an attorney. Re- 
moving to Dublin, he took a house on Arran Quay, then 
a fashionable part of the town, and soon obtaining ex- 
tensive practice, continued for several years at the head 
of his profession in that city. He had become attached 
at an early period to a juvenile acquaintance, a Miss Na- 
gle, of the respectable family of that name still existing, 
near Castletown Roche ; one member of which, the pre- 
sent admiral, Sir Edmund Nagle, enjoyed, in his naval 
career, the active patronage and friendship of his cele- 
brated kinsman, spending much of his time when not on 
service at Beaconsfield, and frequently calling forth his 
praise by his gallantry, particularly on one occasion, 
when Edmund said he deserved a civic crown for jump- 
ing overboard, from a ship at sea, to save a friend from 
the jaws of a shark.* 

By this lady, to whom he was married, at Mallow, 
about 1726, Mr. Burke had fourteen or fifteen children, 
all of whom died young, except Garrett, Edmund, Rich- 
ard, and a sister named Julia, baptised 1728, afterwards 
married to a gentleman of consideration, named French. 

* This circumstance being much talked of at the time, his late 
Majesty heard of it, and Sir Edmund, then Captain Nagle being 
pointed out, he entered into conversation, complimenting him 
upon his gallantry : " It was a hazardous attempt. Captain 
Nagle," observed the King. "1 never thought of the hazard, 
please your Majesty.'' " But do you think you would run such 
a risk again. Captain Nagle?" "Please your Majesty, I would 
go to h — 11 at any time to serve a friend !" replied the gallant 
seaman. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 19 

Garrett, who followed his father's profession, and was well 
known in Dublin as a man of wit and drollery, died un- 
married. Richard, who became equally distinguished in 
London as a wit, a politician, a writer, and a lawyer, in 
which latter capacity Lord Mansfield had formed and ex- 
pressed to several members of the bar now living the 
highest opinion of him, and of whom some notices will 
hereafter occur, also died unmarried. The issue of Mrs. 
French alone survive ; Thomas Haviland Burke, Esq. of 
Lincoln's Inn, her grandson, being the lineal representa- 
tive of the family. The integrity and reputation of their 
father enabled him, after living in affluence, and educat* 
ing his children in a suitable manner, to leave behind at 
his death a competent provision for them. It is a fact, 
ascertained by the writer, from the most unquestionable 
authority, that Edmund acquired from bis family, at va- 
rious times, a sum little short of 20,000^ ; which is more 
than Mr. Pitt derived from his father ; though it has been 
industriously circulated that the patrimony of the former 
amounted to little or nothing, and that in early life he sup- 
ported himself in London wholly by his pen. 

He was born in the house on Arran Quay, January 
1st, O. S. 1750 : those who are fond of looking to coin- 
cidences will not fail to remark from what has been al- 
ready said, that, like his great contemporaries, Mr. Fox 
and Mr. Pitt, he was a younger son. Scarcely any thing 
is remembered of his early years, except being of a deli- 
cate constitution, tending, as was believed, to consump- 
tion. On this account he was kept longer than usual 
under the paternal roof: and it is traditionally related as 
something remarkable and even ludicrous, that the first 
instructor in the rudiments of learning of this great mas- 
ter of the powers of the English language, was an elderly 
woman residing in the neighbourhood, who entertaining 



go LIFE OF THE 

a partiality for the boy, found amusement in the business 
of forming his infant mind. 

. The air of the metropolis being deemed detrimental 
to his constitution from not improving in strength, he 
was removed to his grandfather's at Castletown Roche. 
Here for the first time he was put to school ; and the 
ruins of the school-room, or what is believed to have 
been such, may be still traditionally pointed out to those 
who take an interest in prying into those early haunts 
which subsequent great genius elevates into immortality. 
At this place he spent a considerable time, so much, it 
is said, as five years, acquiring all that the village school- 
master could teach ; and the partiaHty which he always 
entertained for the spot, in addition to his long residence 
in it, and familiarity with the neighbouring objects, par- 
ticularly Spenser's ruined castle, gave rise to the belief 
of his having been born there. In Ireland this report is 
particularly current, on account of the spot being deem- 
ed classical ground. It was countenanced also by some 
beautiful lines which he wrote at college, on the river 
Blackvvater, running to Youghall Bay, through the coun- 
ties of Cork and Waterford, near to the spot where he 
resided, and into which falls the Molla^ a stream immor- 
talised by the author of the Fairy Queen. 

Several other places have equally, though incorrectly, 
contended for the honour of his birth, at least in the gos- 
siping rumours of their respective natives ; such as 
Athlone: Thurles in the county of Tipperary ; the coun- 
ty of Carlow adjoining to Kildare ; and the vicinity of 
Lismore. Something of this uncertainty is due to that 
unhappy neglect which Ireland too often exhibits towards 
her eminent men ; something to Mr. Burke himself, who, 
from disregard of contemporary applause, or that unusual 
humility with which he was well known to regard him- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 2i 

self and his exertions, never willingly obtruded his name 
into the magazines and newspapers of the day, nor would 
he furnish materials for such purpose to his friends. The 
consequence is, there is less known of him than of any 
other piibhc man of the time, who had n )t half his de- 
sert or half his reputation. Some particulars, in fact, are 
still unknown even to his most intimate acquaintance, and 
are likely to continue so. 

From Castletown Roche he was removed to Dublin, 
and is said to have continued about a year at school in 
Smithfield, in that city, when the reputation of the clas- 
sical academy at Ballitore, and the improvement of his 
health, further impaired by rapid growth, induced his fa- 
ther to send him thither. 

This village stands on an agreeable scite in the county 
of Kildare, 28 miles to the southward of Dublin, in a 
valley through which runs the small river Griese, — a pro- 
lific theme for school- boy punning. The scite was pur- 
chased early in the last century by two of the Society of 
Friends, John Barcroft and Amos Strettel, as a species 
of colony for its members, and the chief inhabitants are 
still of that persuasion. A school of a superior class 
being wanting among this intelligent community, an ho- 
nest and learned Quaker, Abraham Shackleton, was in- 
vited from Yorkshire, in 1726, to conduct it, whose ca- 
pacity and diligence soon spread the rejnitation of the 
establishment over much of the southern and eastern 
parts of Ireland, by turning out from it several eminent 
men. It was continued by his son Richard Shackleton ; 
by his grandson Abraham, who died in 1818 ; both men 
of superior original minds, and poetical pov\ ers : and still 
exists with undiminished reputation under the direction 
of the son-in-law of the latter, Mr. James White. The 
grand- daughter of the founder, Mrs. Mary Leadbeater, 



SS LIFE OP THE 

inherits the genius of her family, and is advantasjeously 
known to the public by a volunne of " Poems," published 
in 1808 ; *< The Landlord^ Friend ;" " Cottage Biogra- 
phy ;" " Cottage Dialogues ;" the latter work introduced 
to the world under the warm sanction of Miss Edge- 
worth, and with the others, imparting the most faithful 
views we possess of the interior of an Irish cottage, and 
the manners of that peculiar and in many respects origi- 
nal people. 

To this school Edmund, then in his 12th year, along 
with his brothers Garret and Richard, was removed the 
26th May, 1741. It has been observed by Dr. Johnson, 
that the early years of distinguished men, when minutely 
traced, furnish evidence of the same vigour or originality 
of mind by which they are celebrated in after-life. Such 
was certainly the case with young Burke. 

His habits, so far as can be remembered, indicated 
more of solidity than commonly belongs to that period of 
life ; his powers appeared not so much in brilliancy, as in 
steadiness of application, facility of comprehension, and 
strength of memory ; indications which drew the com- 
mendation first, and, as his powers unfolded themselves, 
soon the warm regard of the master under whose pater- 
nal care the improvement of his health kept pace with 
that of his mind ; and the grateful pupil never forgot his 
obligations. 

Among his schoolfellows were Dr. Brocklesby, the 
physician, afterwards so well known in the literary circles 
of London ; the Rev. Michael Kearney, brother to a 
Bishop of Ossory, a modest and most ingenious man, 
of ^reat literary acquirements and endowments of mind, 
who died in 1814 at a very advanced age; Thomas 
Bushe, father to the present Irish judge of that name ; and 
several others of equal talents, though filling inferior sta- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 33 

tions in life, among whom was a Mr. Matthew Smith, 
a country school-master, who possessed his esteem, and 
with whom he corresponded. Another, who was still 
less fortunate in life, he kept for some years domesticated 
in his establishment at Beaconsfield, and tried repeatedly 
to push forward in the world. Dr. Sleigh, an eminent 
physician of Cork, the friend of Goldsmith in more than 
one season of adversity, and the first friend of Barry, the 
painter, did not come to the school till Mr. Burke had 
quitted it, but they met in London afterwards, and became 
intimately acquainted, the latter frequently saying, " he 
knew few more ingenious^and valuable men." 

But his chief favourite and friend was Richard Shac- 
kleton, the only son of his master, and his successor in 
the school, with whom a lively epistolary correspondence 
was kept up during the remainder of his life ; whom he 
never failed to visit when he went to Ireland; who some- 
times came to England to spend a short time at Beacons- 
field with him; and for whose death in 1792, he express- 
ed, in a very affectionate letter to the family, the most 
sincere regret, confessing to the shedding of tears on the 
occasion. 

This gentleman, who felt an equal degree of attach- 
ment to his illustrious acquaintance, being often question- 
ed during his life as to the boyish peculiarities of the 
great Burke, seemed to feel much interest in recounting 
them. To an intimate friend of his, to whom I am 
obliged for the communication of these and several other 
particulars, he was accustomed to give the following 
summary from personal observation, which, being three 
or four years older, he v\ as enabled to do with sufficient 
accuracy ; and as they are, perhaps, the only authentic 
notices which remain of the period in question, possess 
sonie little interest for those who love to trace back great 
talents from maturity to the bud. 



24; LIFE OF THE 

His genius, observed Mr. Shackleton, appeared to be 
promising from the first; he was not very far advanced 
when he came to school, but soon evinced great aptitude 
to learn ; and on many occasions a soundness and manli- 
ness of mind, and ripeness of judgment beyond his years. 
He read much while quite a boy, accumulated a great 
variety of knowledge, and delighted in exercising, and 
occasionally exhibiting to his companions, superior powers 
of memory, particularly in what is called capping Latin 
verses. An inquisitive and speculative cast of mind were 
not the least distinguishing of his peculiarities ; he devo- 
ted much time to the eager perusal of history and poetry; 
the study of the classics seemed to be more his diversion 
than his business. He was of an affectionate disposition, 
rather fond of being alone, less lively and bustling than 
other boys of the same age, but good-natured, communi- , 
cative of what he knew, and always willing to teach or 
to learn. 

In the family of this gentleman are preserved a series 
of his letters, at least a considerable number of them, 
commencing at the age of fifteen, down to within two 
months of his death ; and the earliest said to be distin- 
guished by as strong a love of virtue, affection for his 
friend, and superior capacity fof observation, as the last. 
To these the writer, from some family objection, has not 
been permitted to have access; but the same friend to 
whom Mr. Shackleton communicated the substance of 
some of them, as well as the specimens of young Burke's 
poetical powers which appear in the present volume, has 
favoured him with some of the circumstances to which 
they refer. 

Few anecdotes of him, while at school, are preserved. 
It is recorded, however, that seeing a poor man pulling 
down his own hut near the village, and hearing that it 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE, - S5 

was done by order of a great gentleman in a gold-laced 
hat (the parish conservator of the roads,) upon the plea 
of being too near the highway, the young philanthropist, 
his bosom swelling with indignation, exclaimed, that, 
were he a man, and possessed of authority, the poor 
should not thus be oppressed. Little things in children 
often tend to indicate, as well as to form, the mind of the 
future man; there was no characteristic of his subsequent 
life more marked, than a hatred of oppression in any 
form, or from any quarter. 

The steward of the establishment at Ballitore, who 
sometimes condescended to be director of the school-boy 
sports, used to repeat this and similar anecdotes, with no 
little pride of his old acquaintance when risen into cele- 
brity. He delighted in hearing of him ; he would sit for 
hours attentive to this his favourite theme; and particu- 
larly when the newspapers had any thing of more than 
usual interest respecting him to communicate, he was 
quite insensible to all other claims upon his attention. He 
■was a hard-headed, North- of- Ireland presbyterian, named 
Gill, upon whom young Shackleton wrote verses, and 
young Burke chopped his boyish logic; the shrewd, 
though unlettered remarks in reply to which, gave him 
in their opinion some claim to the more philosophical 
appellation of Hobbes. By this name Mr. Burke used 
to inquire after him while at college; and never afterwards 
went to Ballitore, where he chiefly continued to reside, 
without giving him proofs of regard. 

The last visit he made took place in 1786, after the 
opening of the impeachment of Mr. Hastings, The old 
steward, who regarded this as another illustration of the 
humane spirit displayed by the boy, was then verging to 
eighty, his eyes dim, his limbs feeble, and as it proved, 
tottering into the grave ; but the announcement of the 



;^6 LIFR OF THE 

name of his youthful associate inspired the worn-out 
frame of the aged man with momentary vigour. Mr. 
Burke accosted him with his accustomed kindness, shook 
him often and cordially by the hand, and introduced his 
son, who showed equal attention to his father's humble 
but venerable friend. This condescension so much af- 
fected the old man's feelings, that for some time he was 
deprived of utterance; he bowed repeatedly, and at length 
brought out, that he was proud — very proud to see him 
— adding, " you have many friends in Ireland, sir." *' I 
am happy Mr. Gill, that you are one of them. — You look 
very well. — Am I much changed since you last saw me?" 
Old William replied, after some attempt at examination, 
that he was almost too dark with age to observe ; when 
Mr. Burke, with characteristic affability, took a candle 
and held it up to his own face, to give the aged servant a 
better view of it ; a scene which the relator of the anecdote 
says, those who w^ere present cannot easily forget.* 

A spirit of emulation wiih his friend Shackleton, and 
natural taste together, made young Burke towards the 
close of his school career, if not a poet, at least poetical; 
though few, if any, of his verses of this date are known to 
exist. It was about this period, however, immediately 
before or after quitting school, that in a spirit of friendly 
rivalry they each translated the thirtieth Idyllium of 
Theocritus on the death of Adonis, reported to have pos- 
sessed considerable merit. Some scenes of a play are also 
attributed to him about the same time, which were either 
lost or destroyed while on a visit to a relation residing at 
Ballyduff, near Thurles, in the county of Tipperary. 

* Poems, by Mary Leadbeater (late Shackleton), 1808. — Cot- 
tage Biography, 1822, by the same. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. S7 

At Ballitore also he is believed to have imbibed other 
and more distinguished characteristics ; particularly that 
regard for civil and religious liberty which marked his 
future life; and this from observing among the society of 
Friends^ in which he was domesticated, that differences of 
opinion on these points made neither worse subjects nor 
worse men. Reflection, and the remembrance that many 
relations by both parents were Roman catholics, probablv 
taught him to extend the same liberality of sentiment to- 
ward persons of that persuasion, then in a most oppressed 
and persecuted state. His opinions on this point are 
known to have been formed soon ; and the fact exhibits 
an additional proof of early maturity of mind, in possess- 
ing the power to disengage itself from those prejudices 
and animosities existing in Ireland between protestant 
and catholic, at a time when, even among the nearest 
relations, they produced an unchristian, and, in fact, a 
hostile spirit. 

Toward the middle of. April, 1744, having been just 
three years at school, he quitted it, possessed of what 
Mr. Shackleton used to describe as " a large and mis- 
cellaneous stock of learning for his years," and next day, 
as he informed that gentleman by letter, entered Trinity 
college, Dublin, as pensioner, the expense of which is 
about 150/. per annum, that of fellow commoner, the 
highest class of students, being about 200/. The follow- 
ing is the entry in the register ; premising that there is a 
mistake of a year in his age, possibly done by design, 
sixteen being the usual time of admission; and that the 
academical year beginning in July, the year is really 
1744, though nominally a year sooner; his name also is 
spelt according to the orthography of the other branches 
of the family. 



^8 



April 
J 4. 







LIFE OF THE 










1743,* 






Edmund 
Jiourke, 
Pens. 


Fil. Ric. 

Gene- 

ros. 




Af^_"^ Dublin. 


Educiitiis 

Sub f.rula 

Mag. Shackieion 


Dr. 

Pells- 
sier. 



Dr. Pelissier, who had the honour of having such a 
pupil, is represented by high college authority as a man 
of very ordinary acquirements, who when vice-provost in 
1753, quitted the university for the living of Ardstraw, in 
the north of Ireland. To him Mr. Burke owed few ob- 
ligations, except, as it is said, having recommended to 
him the acquisition of multiform knowledge, rather than 
to devote his attention to any particular branch, — a plan 
which looking to the results as exemplified in the in- 
stances of Johnson and Burke, would seem not to be the 
worst for enlarging and strengthening the human faculties. 

The university course, besides abstract Christianity; 
the usual portion of mathematics, theoretical and practical; 
natural, moral, and political philosophy; dealt deeply in 
several old and rather uninstructive volumes of scholastic 
logic, fortified however by Locke on the understanding; 
Burlamaqui and Locke ^vere the chief writers on govern- 
ment, the latter of which has since been expunged from 
the list of college books. In classics the course compre- 
hended all the chief Greek and Latin authors. Compo- 
sition in those languages however is more neglected than 
in the English universities, the attention of the student 
in Dublin, as in Scotland, being directed more to a perfect 
acquaintance with their sentiments and beauties than to 
the niceties of grammar and idiom; an omission which 
the former learned bodies deem of more importance than 
perhaps it really is. 

A general belief has prevailed, that, like Johnson, Swift, 

* For the entry I am indebted to John Colhoui>, Esq. of the 
Irish bar. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 29 

Goldsmith, and other eminent men, Mr. Burke attracted 
no particular notice, and exhibited at college no proofs of 
that superiority for which he was afterwards so celebrated. 
This may be pardy true. Goldsmith, who was his con- 
temporary, at least said so, more than once, in order per- 
haps to apologise for his own negligence; but Dr. Le- 
land, who was then a fellow of the college, and necessa- 
rily a more competent judge, used to say that he was 
known as a young man of superior, but unpretending ta- 
lents, and more anxious to acquire knowledge than to 
display it. Other evidence also exists that he did not 
pass among the crowd wholly undistinguished. In June, 
1746, he was elected a scholar of the house; the qualifi- 
cation for which, being a successful examination in the 
classics before the provost, and senior fellows, confers a 
superior degree of reputation through life in that branch 
of learning on him who succeeds ; and as candidates are 
not eligible till the third year of residence in the univer- 
sity, it will be observed, by referring to dates,, that he 
obtained this distinction the moment the regulations per- 
mitted : the advantages of it, which continue for five years, 
are chambers and commons free, a small annuity, and a 
vote for the member for the university. In addition to 
this, the writer has seen one of his prize books presented 
to him by the college for proficiency in the classics in 
1745, a year before he was elected scholar. 

It has been repeatedly said, like many other erroneous 
statements concerning this eminent man, that he quitted 
the university without a degree; the contrary is the fact. 
He commenced A. B. February 1747-1748, and proceed- 
ed A. M. 1751. No academical irregularities have been 
laid to his charge, except if this can be called so, a parti- 
cipation with his fellow collegians in supporting Mr. 
Sheridan, father to the late celebrated Brinsley Sheridan, 



30 LIFE OP THE 

then manager of the Dublin theatre, in the famous riot in 
1746, against a party who nearly destroyed the house, 
and drove him from the Irish stage; to the punishment 
of the delinquents Mr. Burke alludes in a letter to his 
friend Shackleton of this year. 

His favourite studies, if college report may be trusted, 
were classics, history, philosophy, general literature, and 
from the speculative turn before alluded to, a pretty strong 
attachment to metaphysics ; at least so far as they go to- 
ward clearing the judgment and strengthening the under- 
standing, but no further; this pursuit, however, he after- 
wards relinquished, convinced, as he said, that it was of 
doubtful utility, tending neither to make men better nor 
happier, but rather the reverse. His opinions, both of 
many of our own and of the ancient writers, were formed 
at an early period ; admiring more especially those which 
imparted the greatest knowledge of human nature, of the 
springs of human motives and human actions, and an ac- 
quaintance with human manners; and on this principle 
used not only to observe, " that a good novel was a good 
book,'' but frequently to amuse the social fire-side, par- 
ticularly the ladies, by perusing a few of the most cele- 
brated ; adopting fully the sentiment of Pope, that man is 
the proper study of man. 

Bacon's essays he read diligently, and always charac- 
terised them as the greatest works of that great man. 
Shakspeare, Addison, Le Sage, Fielding, and Smollett, 
then a new writer, were his constant companions in every 
interval from graver studies; Richardson, contrary to the 
opinion of Johnson, he thought much inferior tQp ¥ielding 
as a describer of human nature. Demosthenes was his 
favourite orator; Plutarch's writings he professed, in a 
letter to a friend at this time, to admire beyond those of 
any other ; he preferred Euripides to Sophocles among 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 31 

the dramatists; and the Greek historians generally to the 
Latin. Of Horace, Lucretius, and Virgil, he was parti- 
cularly fond ; maintaining the superiority of the JEne'id 
as a poem over the Iliad, while he admitted the general 
excellence of Homer's genius in invention, force, and 
sublimity, over that of Virgil. 

In this estimate of the two poems, in which few critics 
agree with him, something may be owing to a keen re- 
lish for the superior taste and elegance of the Roman 
poet; something to the greater prevalence of the Latin 
language in Ireland (as in Scotland) than the Greek; 
something to the general enthusiasm felt there almost 
universally for Virgil in particular; and something per- 
haps to the critic's early attempts to give detached por- 
tions of this favourite writer an English poetical dress. 

Though accused, by that party animosity which ever 
clings to a great English statesman as if it were a condi- 
tion of his existence, of innumerable other offences, Mr. 
Burke has scarcely ever been suspected of the sin of 
poetry. For while some have expressed surprise that a 
man of such brilliant and seemingly kindred genius, 
should not have made the attempt, others did not hesitate 
to assert that he was unequal to it; and several of his 
acquaintance, and even biographers, believed and have 
stated that he never wrote a line in his life. Even Cum- 
berland, who had known him since 1760, in his own 
memoirs, written so recently as 1805, assigns Mr.Burke^s 
unacquaintance with the practice of writing poetry, as the 
reason why, in the general endeavour by the club at St, 
James's coflfee-hou^e, in 1774, to make jocular epitaphs 
upon Goldsmith, he did not take up his pen. 

The following therefore may be esteemed a curiosity; 
it is a translation by Mr. Burke, while at college in 1746, 



32 LIFE OF THK 

of the conclusion of the second Georgic of Virgil, the 
panegyric on a country life; and as the production of a 
youth just turned of sixteen, is not merely no ordinary 
effort, but in many passages may contest the palm with 
Dryden; in fact, a comparison of the whole will tell little, 
if any thing, to his disadvantage. 

Oh ! happy swains ! did they know how to prize 
The many blessings rural life supplies ; 
Where in safe huts from clattering arms afar, 
The pomp of cities and the din of war, 
Indulgent earth, to pay his labouring hand, 
Pours in his arms the blessings of the land ; 
Calm through the valleys flows along his life. 
He knows no danger, as he knows no strife. 
"What! though no marble portals, rooms of state. 
Vomit the cringing torrent from his gate, 
Though no proud purple hang his stately halls. 
Nor lives the breathing brass along his walls. 
Though the sheep clothe him without colours' aid. 
Nor seeks he foreign luxury from trade. 
Yet peace and honesty adorn his days 
With rural riches and a life of ease. 

Joyous the yell'wing fields here Ceres sees. 
Here blushing clusters bend the groaning trees, 
Here spreads the silver lake, and all around 
Perpetual green, and flow'rs adorn the ground. 

How happy too, the peaceful rustic lies. 
The grass his bed, his canopy the skies ; 
From heat retiring to the noon-tide glade. 
His trees protect him with an ample shade; 
No jarring sounds invade his settling breast. 
His lowing cows shall lull him into rest. 
Here 'mong the caves, the woods, and rocks around 
Here, only here, the hardy youth abound; 
Religion here has fix'd her pure abodes. 
Parents are honour'd, and adored the gods; 
Departing justice, when she fled mankind. 
In these blest plains her footsteps left behind. 

Celestial Nine ! my only joy and care. 
Whose love inflames me, and whose rites I bear, 
Lead me, oh lead me ! from the vulgar throng. 
Clothe nature's myst'ries in thy rapturous songj 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BUUKE. S3 

What various forms in heav'n's broad belt appear, 

Whose limits bound the circle of the year. 

Or spread around in glitt'ring order lie. 

Or roll in mystic numbers through the sky? 

What dims the midnight lustre of the moon ? 

What cause obstructs the sun'a bright rays at noon I 

Why haste his fiery steeds so long to lave 

Their splendid chariot in the wintry wave? 

Or why bring on the lazy moon so slow ? 

What love detains them in the realms below ? 

But if this dull, this feeble breast of mine. 
Can't reach such heights, or hold such truths divine. 
Oh ! may I seek the rural shades alone, 
Of half mankind unknowing and unknown. 
Range by the borders of the silver flood. 
And waste a life ingloriously good. 

Hail ! blooming fields, where joy unclouded reigns. 
Where silver Sperchius laves the yellowing plains ; 
Oh ! where, Taygeta, shall I here around 
Lyseus praise the Spartan virgins sound ? 
What god will bear me from this burning heat, 
In Hsemus' valley, to some cool retreat. 
Where oaks and laurels guard the sacred ground. 
And with their ample foliage shade me round ? 

Happy the man, who versed in Nature's laws. 
From known effects can trace the hidden cause ! 
Him not the terrors of the vulgar fright 
The vagrant forms and terrors of the night; 
Black and relentless fate he tramples on. 
And all the rout of greedy Acheron. 
Happy whose life the rural god approves. 
The guardian of his growing flocks and groves ; 
Harmonius Pan and old Sylvanus join 
The sister nymphs, to make his joys divine ; 
Him not the splendours of a crown can please, 
Or consul's honours bribe to quit his ease 
Though on his will should crowding armies wait. 
And suppliant kings come suing to his gate ; 
No piteous objects here his peace molest, 
Nor can he SDrrow while another's blest ; 
His food alone what bounteous nature yields. 
From bending orchards and luxuriant fields. 
Pleased he accepts, nor seeks the mad resort 
Of thronging clients and litigious court. 

Let one delight all danger's forms to brave,. 
Rush on the sword, or plunge amid the wave, 

E 



M^ LIFE OP THL 

Destroy all nations with an easy mind. 
And make a general havoc of his kind. 
That on a Tyrian couch he may recline, 
And from a costlier goblet quaff his wine; 
Another soul is buried with his store. 
Hourly he heaps, and hourly longs for more ; 
Some in the rostrum fix their sole delight, 
Some in the applauses of a rich third night; 
While gain smiles lovely in another's eyes. 
Though brother's blood should buy the horrid prize; 
Though from his country guilt should make him run, 
"Where other nations feel another sun. 

The happy rustic turns the fruitful soil. 
And hence proceeds the year's revolving toil ; 
On this his country for support depends, 
On this his cattle, family, and friends ; 
For this the bounteous gods reward his care. 
With all the product of the various year; 
His youngling flocks now whiten all the plain, 
Now sink the furrows with the teeming grain ; 
Beauteous to these Pomona adds her charms, 
And pours her fragrant treasures in his arms. 
From loaden boughs, the orchard's rich produce. 
The mellow apple and the generous juice. 

Now winter's frozen hand benumbs the plain. 
The winter too has blessings for the swain ; 
His grunting herd is fed without his toil, 
His groaning presses overflow with oil ; 
The languid autumn crown'd with yellow leaves, 
With bleeding fruit and golden-bearded sheaves. 
Her various products scatters o'er the land. 
And rears the horn of Plenty in her hand. 

Nor less than these, wait his domestic life, 
His darling children, and his virtuous wife. 
The day's long absence they together mourn. 
Hang on his neck, and welcome his return; 
The cows, departing from the joyful field. 
Before his door their milky tribute yield. 
While on the green, the frisky kids engage. 
With adverse horns and counterfeited rage. 
He too, when mark'd with white the festal day, 
Devotes his hours to rural sport and play ; 
Stretch'd on the green amid the jovial quire. 
Of boon companions that surround the fire. 
With front enlarged he crowns the flowing bow!. 
And calls thee, Bacchus, to inspire his soul ; 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 35 

Now warm'd with wine, to vigorous sports tliey rise ; 
High on an elm is hung the victor's prize ; 
To him 'tis given, whose force with greatest speed 
Can wing the dart, or urge the fiery steed. 

Such manners made the ancient Sabines bold. 
Such the life led by Romulus of old ; 
By arts like these divine Etruria grows. 
From such foundations mighty Rome arose. 
Whose god-like fame the world's vast circuit fills, 
Who with one wall hath circled seven vast hills ; 
Such was, ere Jove began his iron reign. 
Ere mankind feasted upon oxen slain. 
The life that Saturn and his subjects led. 
Ere from the land oft'ended justice fled; 
As yet the brazen use of arms unknown. 
And anvils rung with scithes and shares alone. 

In addition to this and the version of the Idyllium of 
Theocritus already mentioned, Mr. Burke made not 
only other translations, but wrote original pieces, some 
of them of length. A few of the shorter ones were sub- 
mitted to the inspection of Mr. Shackleton, or directly 
addressed to him on temporary circumstances ; several 
of them reported to be juvenile enough ; others to dis- 
play talent, and an ardent love of virtue ; but the major 
part believed to be now irrecoverably lost. Conjointly, 
they wrote a poem, taking Ballitore for the subject. The 
address before noticed, to the river Blackwater, which 
was considered to possess superior merit, was, with 
several letters written by Mr. Burke during the early 
part of his career in London, borrowed by his father from 
Mr. Shackleton, and never returned. 

One other memorial of him, however, is preserved in 
the following lines, owing probably to the kind care of 
the gentleman to whom they were addressed ; and they 
will be read with interest as the production of a pen so 
universally celebrated for its powers in prose. 



36 LIFE OF THE 

To Richard Shacklefon, on his Marriage. 
Written by Mr, Burke, 1748. 

When hearts are barter'd for less precious gold. 
And like the heart, the venal song is sold ; 
Each flame is dull, and but one base desire 
Kindles the bridal torch and poet's fire ; 
The gods their violated rites forbear, 
The Muse flies far, and Hymen is not there. 

But when true love binds in his roseate bands 
That rare but happy union, hearts and hands — 
"When nought but friendship guides the poet's song. 
How sweet the verse ! the happy love how strong ! 
Oh ! if the Muse, indulging my design, 
Should favour me, as love has favour'd thine, 
I'd challenge Pan at peril of my life. 
Though his Arcadia were to judge the strife. 

Why don't the vocal groves ring forth their joy 
And lab'ring echoes all their mouths employ ? 
To tell his bride, what sighs, what plaints they heard. 
While yet his growing flame's success he fear'd, 
And all his pains o'erpaid with transport now, 
When love exults and he enjoys bis vow ? 
Silent ye stand — nor will bestow one lay 
Of all he taught io grace this happy day ; 
Can joy ne'er harbour in your sullen shade. 
Or are ye but for lover's sorrows made ? 

I'll leave you then, and from the Bride's bright eye, 
A happier omen take which cannot lie, 
Of growing time, still growing in delight. 
Of rounds of future years all mark'd with white. 
Through whose bright circles, free from envious chance, 
Concord and love shall lead an endless dance. 

What is the monarch's crown, the shepherd's ease. 
The hero's laurel, and the poet's bays ? 
A load of toilsome life too dull to bear. 
If heav'n's indulge'ice did not add the fair; 
E'en Eden's sweets our Adam did despise. 
All its gay scenes could not delight his eyes. 
Woman God gave, and then 'twas Paradise. 

Another Eve and Paradise are thine, 
May'st thou be father of as long a line ! 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 37 

Your heart so fix'd on her, and hers on you. 
As if the world attbrded but the two, 
That to this age your constancy may prove, 
There yet remains on earth a power call'd love. 
These to my friend, in lays not vainly loud. 
The palm, unknowing to the giddy crowd 
I sung, for these demand his steady truth. 
And friendship growing from our earliest youth ; 
A nobler lay unto his sire should grow. 
To whose kind care my better birth I owe, 
Who to fair science did my youth entice, 
Won from the paths of ignorance and vice. 

Things of this description are not constructed to with- 
stand the wintry winds of rigid criticism, yet it is one of 
the best of the kind ; the thoughts chiefly original, the 
versificjition harmonious, the expression only in a few 
places faulty, and the allusions, as has been remarked of 
his speeches, and even colloquial pleasantries, classical. 

That acquaintance with history which distinguished 
his future life, and which there is no doubt tended to the 
development of much of his political wisdom, was pro- 
bably fostered by attendance on occasional meetings of 
the incipient Historical Society ; an association of the 
students of Trinity college, much celebrated in Ireland, 
and where some of her greatest men first gave promise 
of their future fame. It was formally established and 
countenanced by authority, says the eminent Dr. Elring- 
ton, in a communication with which the writer has been 
favoured, in 1770, suppressed and again resumed in 1794, 
and finally put down by the heads of the college in 1815; 
being supposed to direct the attention of youth more 
than was desirable toward political subjects. 

That a similar association had this effect upon young 
Bu'ke, his friends generally believe. His first efforts as 
a politician, adds the highest college authority, were made 
in 1749, previous to his quittmg the university, in some 



38 LIFE OF THE 

letters against the intemperate conduct and writings (by 
pushing his doctrines to their uhimate results, as he after- 
wards did in exposing the tendency of Lord Boling- 
broke's opinions) of Dr. Charles Lucas, a celebrated 
character of the Irish metropolis : who, from apothecary, 
and then physician, became a patriot ; thence by the im- 
prudent persecution of the people in power, elevated into 
a popular idol ; who afterwards became member for the 
city; whose statue now stands on the stair-case oftlie 
Royal Exchange, Dublin; whose remains received the 
unusual honour of being attended to the grave by the 
whole corporation, which body bestowed a pension on 
his widow. What were the effects of Mr. Burke's pen 
it is now vain to inquire ; its vigour, judging from his 
private letters written about this time, was little inferior 
to that of any future period of his life. 

His destination, from an early period, was for the bar; 
then the usual resort, either as a profession or as forming 
a more easy introduction to the House of Commons, of 
the young men of Ireland distinguished for talents and 
ambition. Some of his relations say that he was intend- 
ed from the first for the English bar, and there is some 
ground for the belief in the early period at which his 
name was enrolled at the Middle Temple. The follow- 
ing is the entry. 

23 Sprilis, 1747. 
M". Edmundus Burke, filius secundus Richardi Burke de 
civitate Dublin. Unius Attornatorum curige 'caccariee Domini 
Regis in Regno Hibernige, admissus est in societatem Medii 
Templi, London. 

£t dat pro fine £A. 05. Od. 

Early in 1750, not in 1753 as commonly stated, he 
arrived in London to keep the customary terms pre- 



BIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 39 

vious to being called to the bar. His name appears 
again in the books of the society as entering into bond, 
May 2, 1750 ; his siireties being John Burke, Serjeant's- 
inn, Fleet-street, Gent, and Thomas Kelly, of the Mid- 
dle Temple, Gent. 

His arrival, however, preceded this period by several 
months. The first letter to his friend Shackleton bears 
date the 20th of February, and mentions the introduction 
of the bill by the Earl of Chesterfield for that alteration 
in the calendar, which soon afterwards took place. 

It may be remarked here, that a long copy of verses 
on Mrs. Gibber, the celebrated actress, contained in the 
Annual Register for 1768, are supposed to have been 
written by Mr. Burke previous to his quitting Dublin; it 
is possible they may be by his brother Richard ; and the 
least doubt upon the point is sufficient for not givinp; 
them insertion here. 



CHx\PTER n. 

First Impressions of London and England generally, — 
Contemplates an Attempt for the Logic Professorship 
of Glasgow. — First avowed Publications. 

His first impressions on viewing the English metro- 
polis are vividly expressed in a letter to his schoolfellow 
already mentioned, Mr. Matthew Smith ; and the allu- 
sions to Westminster Abbey and the House of Com- 
mons, " the chosen temples of fame, '' as he said on 
another occasion, will be esteemed by those who look to 
auguries sufficiently remarkable ; the whole is in a pecu- 
liar degree expressive of character^ the reflections ingeni^ 



4-0 LIFE OF THE 

ous,-ancl just, and even profound, like most of his letters 
written afterwards, which, though really despatched off- 
hand, were by many believed to be studied composi- 
tions. 

" You'll expect some short account of my journey to 
this great city. To tell you the truth, I made very few 
remarks as I rolled along, for my mind was occupied 
with many thoughts, and my eyes often filled with tears, 
when I reflected on all the deaf friends I left behind ; yet 
the prospects could not fail to attract the attention of the 
most indifferent : country seats sprinkled round on every 
side, some in the modern taste, some in the style of old 
De Coverley Hall, all smiling on the neat but humble 
cottage ; every village as neat and compact as a bee-hive, 
resounding with the busy hum of industry ; and inns like 
palaces. 

" What a contrast to our poor country, where you'll 
scarce find a cottage ornamented w ith a chimney ! But 
what pleased me most of all was the progress of agricul- 
ture, my favourite study, and my favourite pursuit, if 
Providence had blessed me with a few paternal acres.* 

" A description of London and its natives would fill 
a volume. The buildings are very fine ; it may be call- 
ed the sink of vice ; but its hospitals and charitable insti- 
tutions, whose turrets pierce the skies like so many elec- 
trical conductors avert the wrath of Heaven. The in- 
habitants may be divided into two classes, the undoers 
and the undone^ generally so, I say, for I am persuaded 
there are many men of honesty, and women of virtue, in 
every street. An. Englishman is cold and distant at first; 
he is very cautious even in forming an acquaintance ; he 

* At this period his elder brother being alive was of course in 
succession to the paternal property. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 1-1 

must know you well before be enters into friendship with 
you ; but if he does, he is not the first to dissolve that 
sacred bond; in short, a real Englishman is one that per- 
forms more than he promises j in company he is rather 
silent, extremely prudent in his expressions, even in po- 
litics, his favourite topic. The women are not quite so 
reserved ; they consult their glasses to the best advan- 
tage ; and as nature is very liberal in her gifts to their 
persons, and even mind, it is not easy for a young man to 
escape their glances, or to shut his ears to their softly- 
flowing accents. 

" As to the state of learning in this city, you know I 
have not been long enough in it to form a proper judg- 
ment of that subject. I don'i think however, there is as 
much respect paid to a man of letters on this side the 
water as you imagine. I don't find that genius, the ' rath 
primrose, which forsaken dies,' is patronised by any of 
the nobility,- so that writers of the first talents are left to 
the capricious patronage of the public. Notwithstanding 
this discouragement, literature is cultivated in a high de- 
gree. Poetry raises her enchanting voice to heaven. 
History arrests the wings of Time in his flight to the gulf 
of oblivion. Philosophy, the queen of arts, and the 
daughter of heaven, is daily extending her intellectual 
empire. Fancy sports on airy wing like a meteor on 
the bosom of a summer cloud ; and even Metaphysics 
spins her cobwebs and catches some flies. 

" The House of Commons not unfrequently exhibits 
explosions of eloquence that rise superior to those of 
Greece and Rome, even in their proudest days. Yet, 
after all, a man will make more by the figures of arith- 
metic than the figures of rhetoric, unless he can get into 
the trade wind; and then he may sail secure over Pacto= 
lean sands. As to the stage, it is sunk, in my opinion;, 
F 



'It LIFE OF THE 

into t!ie lowest degree ; I mean with regard to the trash 
that is exhibited on it ; but I don't attribute this to the 
taste of the audience, for when Shakspeare warbles his 
* native wood-notes/ the boxes, pit, and gallery, are crowd- 
ed — and the gods are true to every word, if properly 
winged to the heart, 

" Soon after my arrival in town I visited Westminster 
Abbey : the moment I entered I felt a kind of awe per- 
vade my mind which I cannot describe ; the very silence 
seemed sacred. Henry the Seventh's Chapel is a very 
fine piece of Gothic architecture, particularly the roof; 
but I am told that it is exceeded by a chapel in the Uni- 
versity of Cambridge. Mrs. Nightingale's monument 
has not been praised beyond its merit. The attitude 
and expression of the husband in endeavouring to shield 
his wife from the dart of death, is natural and affecting. 
But I always thought that the image of death would be 
much better represented with an extinguished torch invert- 
ed, than with a dart. Some would imagine, that all these 
monuments were so many monuments of folly; — I don't 
think so; what useful lessons of morality and sound philo- 
sophy do they not exhibit! When the high-born beauty 
surveys her face in the polished parian, though dumb 
the marble, yet it tells her that it was placed to guard 
the remains of as fine a form, and as fair a face, as her 
own. They show besides how anxious we are to extend 
our loves and friendships beyond the grave, and to snatch 
as much as we can from oblivion — such is our natural 
love of immortality : but it is here that letters obtain the 
noblest triumphs; it is here that the swarthy daughters of 
Cadmus may hang their trophies on high : for when all 
the pride of the chisel and the pomp of heraldry yield to 
the silent touches of time, a single line, a half- worn-out 
inscription, remain faithful to their trust. Blest be. the 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 43 

man that first introduced these strangers into our islands, 
and may they never want protection or merit! I have 
not the least doubt that the finest poem in the English 
language, I mean Milton's II Penseroso, was composed 
in the long resounding aisle of a mouldering cloister or 
ivy'd abbey. Yet after all, do you know that I would 
rather sleep in the southern corner of a little country 
church-yard, than in the tomb of the Capulets. I should 
like, however, that my dust should mingle with kindred 
dust. The good old expression, ' family burying-ground,' 
has something pleasing in it, at least to me." 

During the first few years of his stay in London, the 
vacations were devoted to an examination of the interior 
of the country, and sometimes crossing to Ireland, whece, 
in 1751, as already mentioned, he took his master's de- 
gree, and is believed to have made some stay in Cork. 
Health, as much as curiosity, formed the inducement to 
these excursions; the former continued delicate and ill 
adapted to severe study, though this does not seem to 
Have relaxed his diligence in any degree towards general 
literature ; and that the remedial means he adopted did 
not wholly fail of effect, we have his own testimony. 

Writing to Mr. Shackleton, April 5, 1751, he says, 
" my health is tolerable, my studies too in the same de- 
gree." In another letter of the same year, dated 31st 
August, from Monmouth, which had then some reputa- 
tion as a resort for invalids, and whither he had proceeded 
from Bristol, he alludes playfully to his more juvenile 
writings, and hopes his present exercises (alluding to the 
law) may be attended with better success than his literary 
studies, on the ground that " though a middling poet 
cannot be endured, there is some quarter for a middling 
lawyer." 

To the same correspondent, September 2f, 1752,- 



44 LIFE OP THE 

dated from the house of a Mr. Druce, at Torlin, near 
Bradford in Wiltshire, a few miles from Bath, where, in 
company with a friend, he made some stay, enjoying the 
amusements of the country, he describes how the preced- 
ing pari of the year had been employed. " Since I had 
your letter I have often shifted the scene. I spent part 
of the winter, that is, term-tioie, in London, and part in 
Croydon in Surry; about the beginning of summer finding 
myself attacked with my old complaint (an affection of 
the chest), I >\ ent once more to Bristol, and found the 
same benefit; I thank God for it." 

Whether he found the law, as a profession, aliefi to 
his habits, his health incompetent to its persevering pur- 
suit, or became weaned from it by that attachment to 
general literature, which has in so many other instances 
of men of genius proved irresistible, it is certain that his 
views soon changed ; for at the expiration of the usual 
time he was not called to the bar. Among his brother 
templars were a few old college acquaintance, who seem- 
ed to have come to the same determination ; for they were 
afterwards more known in politics and letters than in law. 

In London also he met with many other old friends 
and college acquaintance, some of whose letters, alluding 
to him as a very " promising young man," *' a remarkably 
clever young man," " one who possessed very superior 
o-enius and information," were extant very recently in 
more than one family in Ireland. With Dr. Brocklesby, 
then pushing his way as physician, and who soon after- 
wards received an appointment in the medical department 
of the army, he renewed his acquaintance; and with Dr. 
Joseph Fenn Sleigh, already mentioned, who was finish- 
ing his studies, commenced it : both were Quakers, and 
both afterwards quitted that persuasion. It was about 
this period that the late Arthur Murphy, then carrying on 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 45 

the Gray's Inn Journal, hearing the acquirements of his 
young countryman, Mr. Burke, loudly praised by some 
mutual friends, gained an introduction to him at the cham- 
bers of Mr. Kelly, whose name appears as one of his 
sureties in the Temple books, and on the first interview 
assented to the general opinion of his being a superior 
young man ; an impression which every succeeding 
meeting served to increase. The diversity of his know- 
ledge, and the force and originality of his observations, 
were striking ; in history, politics, polite letters and philo- 
sophy, there seemed little with which he was not fami- 
liar; and his attachment to the latter, *' queen of arts, and 
daughter of heaven," as he had called her in the letter to 
Mr. Smith, was so strong, that it is not surprising he 
should wish to unite his interest with his taste, in the idea 
entertained about this time of getting elected to the pro- 
fessorship of logic, then vacant in the university of Glas- 
gow. 

A principal inducement to this step was probably the 
recollection that Ireland had more than once supplied the 
Scottish seats of learning with eminent men. Her last 
and greatest present to the university in question was, in 
the language of the first philosopher of Scotland,* " the 
profound and eloquent " Dr. Francis Hutcheson. 

Born in the north of Ireland, educated at Glasgow, and 
settling afterwards in Dublin, he soon became distin- 
guished by his writings as one of the first philosophers of 
the age; and though a dissenter, at a time when dissenters 
were looked upon with an evil eye, enjoved the friend- 
ship and protection of Primate Boulter, Archbishop King, 
Bishop Synge, Lords Moles worth, Granville, and others, 
the most eminent in that country for virtue and talents. 

* Mr. Dugald Stewart. 



46 LIFE OF THE 

His fame at lene^th drew an invitation to the university oi 
Glasgow in 1729, first to the Logic and then to the Mo- 
ral Philosophy Chair ; an event of great moment both in 
the intellectual and literary history of Scotland. His ce- 
lebrity attracted a very large class from all parts of the 
country. He was the immediate precursor of Adam 
Smith, Reid, Beattie, Ferguson, and others ; the instruc- 
tor of some of them, and, from his celebrity, a source of 
interest and emulation to all ; while the ingenuity and 
eloquence of his lectures, says the distinguished philoso- 
pher already quoted, ** contributed very powerfully to 
diffuse in Scotland that taste for analytical discussion and 
that spirit of liberal inquiry, to whjch the world is indebt- 
ed for some of the most valuable productions of the 
eighteenth century ;" and again, " Dr. Hutcheson, of 
Glasgow, by his excellent writings, and still more by his 
eloquent lectures, had diffused among a numerous race 
of pupils a liberality of sentiment and a refinement of 
taste, unknown before in this part of the island." X 

Upon this eminent man, whose •' Inquiry into the Ori- 
gin of our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue," is believed to 
have suggested the title, at least, of the " Inquiry into 
the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful," 
our young adventurer had his eye, in aiming at running, 
perhaps, a similar career of philosophical fame. 

Scotsmen, he anderstood, were no less fond of abstrac- 
tions in the sqhools, than of the more substantial and 
valuable realities of active life ; and to suit their taste in 
the former respect, he laid in, in addition to an unusually 
ample stock of general knowledge, a large adventure in 
metaphysics, — no less than a refutation of the systems of 
h'S own countryman the celebrated Berkeley, and of 
Hume. There is also some reason to believe that he 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE, 4)7 

had even at this time sketched the outline of the essay 
on the Sublime and Beautiful, as an additional claim to 
the vacant chair. This honour, however, he failed to 
obtain ; under what particular circumstances is not now 
known. It is certain that he never proceeded to an ac- 
tive canvass ; but being in that quarter of the island, and 
probably hearing that the office was to be awarded to the 
successful competitor in a public trial of skill, he took 
the resolution of contesting the palm with the Scottish 
literati, until informed that private arrangements in the 
university and city, rendered any such attempt totally 
hopeless. The inquiry made of Principal Taylor, by a 
friend of the writer, is satisfactory as to Mr. Burke hav- 
ing been a candidate, but not as to the exact date. His 
successful competitor was Mr. James Clow.* 

He returned with undiminished spirit to his studies, 
and to what continued a favourite enjoyment with him 
through life, occasional excursions through the country. 
Having extended his journey to France, it was believed 

* Since the above was written, the writer has been favoured 
with the following communication from Mr. Dugald Stewart : — 

" I am very doubtful of the fact that ever Burke was a candi- 
date for a professorship in Glasgow. I remember perfectly a 
conversation with Mr. (Adam) Smith on the subject, in the course 
of which he said that the story was extremely current, but he 
knew of no evidencp upon which it rested ; and he suspected it 
took its rise entirely from an opinion which he had expressed at 
Glasgow upon the publication of Burke's book on the Sublime 
and Beautiful, that the author of that book would be a great 
acquisition to the college, if he would accept of a chair." 

This opinion, though entitled to every respect, is not decisive. 
The evidence is rather the other way; for the story is not only 
old, but was repeated three or four times in print during Mr. 
Burke's life-time, and on one occasion came immediately under 
his eye without receiving any formal contradiction from him^ 



48 LIFE OF THE 

by many who knew the falsehood of the report of his 
having been educated at St. Omer, that he had simply 
visited that town, and describing its institutions in com- 
pany, the report originated of his having been brought up 
there. But even this is not the fact. He observed at his 
own table more than once, " He could not but consider 
it a remarkable circumstance (in allusion to this report) 
that in three or four journeys he had made in France, St. 
Omer's happened to be the chief place in the northern 
provinces which he had never visited, and this not from 
design, but accident; for being continually spoken of in 
Ireland as a place of education, it was no more than natu- 
ral that a traveller from that country should wish to see it 
in the indulgence of rational curiosity." By all accounts, 
however, his curiosity was very active ; the ideal and the 
beautiful, it is still remembered, being mingled with the 
useful; and pictures and statues, a farm-yard, a mine, or 
a manufactory, were equally objects of investigation. 

His more sedentary pursuits were followed with a 
degree of assiduity, which vivacious men commonly term 
plodding; but which more sober judgments know to be a 
good substitute for all other talents, and in fact the only 
surety for their excellence. His application was unvvea- 

which, as it did not come under the head of slander, he might 
have deigned to give it. The name of his opponent also is ex- 
pressly mentioned. The letter from Glasgow alluded to above, 
bearing upon the point of his being a candidate, is as follows : 

" Glasgov/, January 29th 1823. 
" My dear Sir, 
" I have made inquiry at Principal Taylor in order to leara 
whether Mr. Edmund Burke was actually a Professor of Logic 
in the college of Glasgow between the years 1749 and 1752, or 
was an unsuccessful candidate for the chair. — The Principal 
states that Mr. Burkes was a candidate for that chair in 1752 or 
1753, but that he was unsuccessful.^^ 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 49 

ried. Unlike most persons of vivid fancy, he had good 
sense enough to recollect, that the most brilliant imagi- 
nations ought not only to have wings to fly, but also legs 
to stand upon ; in other words, that genius, unpropped by 
knowledge, may serve to amuse, but will rarely be useful 
in the more important concerns of mankind. 

The desire to acquire and the drudgery of acquiring, 
were promoted by habits of life, which concurring testi- 
mony, collected about twenty years afterwards from seve- 
ral of his acquaintance, went to prove were more than 
commonly equable and temperate. Moderation in the 
pleasurable enjoyments of youth seemed so much a gift 
from nature, that, at a period of life when the passions 
too often run riot, he either had few vicious and irregular 
propensities, or possessed the next best gift of providence, 
— the power to control them. His excesses were not in 
dissipation, but in study. He gave way to no licentious 
inclinations. It is asserted that he did not then know a 
single game at cards ; and that wine was no further a 
favourite than as it contributed to social intercourse, of 
which hS*Was at every period of life, particularly with 
literary and scientific men, extremely fond, so far as the 
pleasures of conviviality could be enjoyed without its 
excesses. One of his chief resorts was the Grecian coffee- 
house, where his habits for a long time were well remem- 
bered, and his conversation quoted many years subse- 
quently by members of the Middle Temple Society. 

He who devotes his days to the treasuring up of know- 
ledge, may be permitted to set apart the evenings to 
recreation. While in Dublin he had become attached to 
the drama from its intimate relation to literature, to 
poetry, and perhaps more than either, to the displays it 
exemplifies of human nature : in a vast metropolis hke 
London, indeed, the theatre is almost the natural resort 



50 LIFE OF THE 

of a literary rnan ; for there, even when most in search of 
relaxation, he may find some, and not unprofitable, em- 
ployment for the mind. 

The acquaintance of Mr. Murphy, who had by this 
time attempted the sta^je as a profession, of many of the 
leading theatrical critics who frequented the Grecian, and 
of several brother templers equally fond of dramatic 
amusements, introduced him to some of the principal 
performers : to Garrick, from whom he confessed to have 
profited in oratorical action, and in the management of 
his voice, at whose table he saw many of the most dis- 
tinguished characters of the age, and where his talents 
and powers of conversation became more generally 
known : To Macklin, at whose debating society, which 
flourished for a few months in 1754, he is believed to 
have made his first attempt at public speaking, and whom 
it is said he recommended soon after to Mr. Wedderburn, 
then coming forward at the bar, in order to get rid of 
his Scottish accent : and to the celebrated Mrs. (or Miss) 
Woffington, with whom it has been insinuated, though 
without any probable foundation, that a still more intimate 
connexion existed. 

This lady, so well known in the annals of the theatre, 
was famed for possessing beauty, wit, vivacity, fascina- 
tion of manners, and very considerable povvers of mind, 
which, when performing in Dublin, caused her to be 
admitted (the onl)'^ one of her sex who was so) a member 
of a famous association of noblemen and gentlemen there, 
called the Beef-steak Club; she possessed almost every 
thing but that which alone can make a woman respecta- 
ble, — virtue. Men of the highest rank, of learning, of 
wealth, of wit, and even of morals, sought her society; 
at her house he extended his acquaintance, and, among 
others, is said to have been introduced and recommended 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 51 

by her to the Duke of Newcastle, then prime minister; 
an assertion probal^ly not correct, as his grace, ten years 
afterwards, had nearly proved a very serious enemy, 
either from forjretting the recommendation, or suspecting 
that because it uas not attended to, the pen of Mr. Burke 
had been employed against his vacillating and divided 
administration between 1754 and 1757. 

The ambition of being distinguished in literature, 
seems to have been one of his earliehl, as it was one of 
his latest passions; prompted as much perhaps by that 
early maturity of mind of which his letters apd contem- 
porary testimony furnish evidence, as the natural desire 
of advancing his fortune and reputation. Frequent inter- 
course with the literary society of the metropolis would 
necessarily inspire the wish to test the vigour of his pen 
by comparison with that of others, through the medium 
of the press; though the stale of letters in London, which 
he alludes to in the communication to Mr. Smith, by 
observing that much more was to be made by the figures 
of arithmetic than the figures of rhetoric, does not appear 
to have inspired any very sanguine expectations of author- 
ship being a source of pecuniary advantage. 

The first productions even of great writers are seldom 
preserved, and are perhaps seldom worth preserving. 
Those of Mr. Burke do not seem to have escaped the 
general fate, as there is no doubt that some pieces of his 
were published previous to those which appear first in his 
works ; little more, however, can be ascertained respect- 
ing them now, than what contemporary remembrance, 
and possibly conjecture, supplied, after his name had 
become familiar to the public ear. 

One of the first was believed by Mr. Murphy to be a 
poem, or poetical translation from the Latin, which, from 
the preceding specimen, is not improbable ; but as no- 



5^ LIFE OF THE 

thing further is known, its success could not be conside- 
rable, and might have induced a distaste in the writer to 
any future attempt of length in that species of composi- 
tion. It is certain that soon after his arrival in London 
he wrote to Ireland for anecdotes to engraft into concise 
biographies of Mr. Brooke, the celebrated author of the 
Fool of Quality, and of the tragedy of Gustavus Vasa, 
and of his new acquaintance Mrs. Woffington; these, 
with the poetry in question, may possibly be traced by 
the more diligent collectors of the pamphlets and period- 
ical publications of the time. The Essay on the Drama, 
preserved in his works, is believed to be of the same 
date. So also may be many of the materials collected 
for a work on the oppressed condition of the catholics of 
Ireland, which are likewise among his posthumous re- 
mains. Politics were probably not neglected; and in 
criticism, for which his range of information and keenness 
of remark offered peculiar facilities, he is supposed to 
have written much. 

His first avowed work, the " Vindication of Natural 
Society," which came out in the spring of 1756, may in 
fact be termed a piece of philosophical criticism, couched 
under the guise of serious irony. It was an octavo pam- 
phlet of 106 pages, published by Cooper at the price of 
is. 6c/.; and originated in an opinion generally expressed 
in literary society, of the style of Lord Bolingbroke being 
not only the best of that time, but in itself wholly inimi- 
table; and in the approbation expressed by some persons 
of what were called his philosophical opinions, which 
had then been recently published. -^N-, 

The design of Mr. Burke was to produce a covert 
mimicry both of his style and principles ; and particularly, 
by pushing the latter to their inevitable conclusion, to 
force conviction of their unsoundness, by shewing that 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 53 

the arguments employed by the peer against religion, 
applied as strongly against every other institution of ci- 
vilised men. His lordship's philosophy, such as it was, 
was the newest pattern of the day, and of course excited 
considerable notice, as coming from a man who had made 
a conspicuous figure in politics; and whose career, after 
a youth spent in the stews, and a manhood in turbulence 
and disaffection to the government of his country, seemed 
appropriately terminated by an old age of infidelity. 
Accustomed to disregard honest and wise opinions on 
other matters, he wanted courage to show his contempt 
of them on this ; but at his death left to Mallet, a brother 
infidel, the office of ushering his benevolent legacy into 
light; which drew from Dr. Johnson, when asked his 
opinion of it, the exclamation, " A scoundrel! who spent 
his life in charging a pop-gun against Christianity; and a 
coward ! who, afraid of the report of his own gun, left 
half a crown to a hungry Scotchman to draw the trigger 
after his death." 

The novelty of the plan of attack upon the dialectics 
of the noble philosopher, caused some stir in the literary 
circles, though it has been untruly stated by a virulent 
enemy, in the guise of a biographer, to have fallen still- 
born from the press. Lord Chesterfield and Bishop 
Warburton for a short time believed it genuine: Mallet, 
it has been said, went to Dodsley's shop when filled with 
the literati, purposely to disavow it; and the periodical 
critics, though not deceived when their strictures appear- 
ed in print, gave it a full examination, and much praise 
for the ingenuity shown in the execution. 

The imitation indeed was so perfect as to constitute 
identity rather than resemblance. It was not merely the 
language, style, and general eloquence of the original 
which had been caught ; but the whole mind of the 



54 LIFE OF THK 

peer, his train of thought, the power to enter into his 
conceptions, seemed to be transfused into the pen of his 
imitator with a fidehty and ' grace beyond the reach of 
art.' Several able critics of the present day have ex- 
pressed their admiration of it in strong terms ; one of 
them, in a celebrated periodical work, alluding to this 
power of copying an author in c//his peculiarities, says — 

" In Burke's imitation of Bolingbroke (the most per- 
fect specimen perhaps that ever will exist of the art in 
question) we have all the qualities which distinguish the 
style, or we may indeed say the genius of that noble 
writer, concentrated and brought before us ; so that an 
ordinary reader, who, in perusing his genuine works 
merely felt himself dazzled and disappointed — delighted 
and wearied he could not tell why, is now enabled to 
form a definite and precise conception of the causes of 
those opposite sensations — and to trace to the nobleness 
of the diction and the inaccuracy of the reasoning — 
the boldness of the propositions and the rashness of the 
inductions — the magnificence of the pretensions and the 
feebleness of the performance, those contradictory judg- 
ments with the confused result of which he had been 
perplexed in his study of the original." 

This tract, which was reprinted in 1765, is perhaps 
equally remarkable for having anticipated many of the 
wild notions, under the name of philosophy, broached a 
few years ago in the general rage to overturn old opinions 
as well as old institutions. It was amusing to see what 
were first introduced to the world as specimens of inge- 
nious absurdity, retailed to the ignorant of our own day 
as the legitimate inductions of philosophy. For in this 
piece may be found (advanced of course ironically) some- 
thing of the same cant about the evils of governments, 
the misdeeds of statesmen, the injustice of aristocratic 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 55 

distinctions, the troubles engendered by reliction, the 
tyranny and uncertainty of laws, the virtues of the poor 
over the rich, with much more of what the author, 
when speaking seriously, justly termed abuse of reason. 
Thoupjh gifted with no common degree of foresight, he 
could have no idea that these phantoms of philosophy, 
conjured up for his amusement in 1756, should be op- 
posed to him 40 years afterwards as substantial realities ; 
that his whole strength should be required to put down 
his own shadows. 

A few months afterwards, in the same year, appeared 
" A Philosophical Inquiry into the Origin of our Ideas 
of the Sublime and Beautiful," published for Dodsley, 
at the price of 3s. Of this celebrated work, so long be- 
fore the public, which now forms a text book in liberal 
education, and one of reference in our universities, little 
more need be said than that it is perfectly original in the 
execution and design. Longinus indeed had written on 
the sublime, and Addison partially on grandeur and 
beauty, but neither of them profoundly nor distinctly ; 
they exemplify and illustrate rather than analyse or dive 
to the sources of those impressions on the mind ; and 
they even confound the sublime with the beautiful on 
many occasions. But Mr. Burke's book marks the line 
between them so distinctly, as that they cannot be mis- 
taken ; he investigates the constituents and appearances 
of each scientifically, and illustrates his views with great 
happiness. Johnson considered it a model of true philo- 
sophical criticism. Blair, who praises its originality and 
ingenuity, has profited much by it in his remarks on 
sublimity and beauty, and in the theory of that often-dis- 
cussed quality, taste, which in this work is justly ob- 
served to prevail in our minds " either from a greater de- 
gree of natural sensibility, or from a closer and longer 
attention to the object.'^ 



56 LIFE OF THE 

As indicative of character, of extensive and various 
observation, and accurate deduction, both these produc- 
tions are remarkable, particularly the latter, considering^ 
the time of life at which it was written. From the na- 
ture of the subject it could not be a work of haste, but 
of much inquiry, of keen penetration, and of diligent re- 
mark, continued for some period of time ; and, in fact, 
is said to have been planned when he was 22 years old, 
and finished before he was 25 ; an age at which indiffer- 
ent rhymes or loose love-stories form the common ex- 
ercises of young tem piers, and when scarcely any man, 
whatever be his attainments, thinks of starting for the 
highest degree in philosophy, much less is enabled to 
make good his claim to the distinction. Both works 
are evidences of a mind early and deeply reflective, in- 
vestigating for itself, and coming out of the inquiry, not 
with a desire to shine in paradox, or to astonish the 
world by propounding something very new or adverse to 
all received opinions, but with the conviction that the 
general belief of mankind in the main questions that in- 
terest them, religion, politics, and philosophy, are right. 
The simple, unornamented style of the Inquiry, is in 
good taste as applied to a philosophical sui:)ject; but 
forms a contrast lo some of his subsequent oratorical 
efforts. 

Continued application to these pursuits produced a fit 
of illness — too often the lot of the labourer in literature, 
— whose existence, though gratifying to the pride of the 
human mind, from a real or fancied superiority over 
others, is in practice - one of the most irksome. For it 
admits of little relaxation. It must be pursued chiefly 
in sohtude. Society, which cheers and animates most 
other men in their calling, becomes an impediment to 
the more brilliant conceptions of the author. His busi- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 57 

ness is with books; his chosen companions the mute, 
yet vivacious ofFsprin^; of the brain. Bound to his desk, 
either by over ruhng necessity, or scarcely less forcible 
inclination, the lighter enjoyments of life cannot be often 
tasted without interfering with the continuity of his pur- 
suits. Before him lies the stated task — the page not of 
nature but of the printer — to which he must sometimes 
unwillingly turn when more attractive objects invite him 
elsewhere ; for the sun nnay shine, the fields look green, 
the flowers bloom in vain for him, who in sallying forth 
to refresh his aded intellect or exhausted frame, must 
neglect the occupation which possibly gives him subsist- 
ence. S'jch also is the case now and then with the too 
diligent student. Cumberland has given a recital of bo- 
dily suffering endured in the acquisition of learning ; and 
Burke, had he written his own life, might have told a 
story still more distressing. 

For the re-establishment of his health, Bath and Bris- 
tol were again resorted to with success. In the former 
city resided his countryman Dr. Christopher Nugent, a 
very amiable man, and an esteemed and able physician, 
who having some previous acquaintance with Mr. Burke, 
kindly invited him to his house as better adapted to the 
wants and situation of an invalid. An attachment to his 
daughter Miss Jane Mary Nugent was the result ; the 
guest offered her nearly all he had at this time to offer 
except what his father supplied, his heart and hand, 
which were accepted ; she was born in the south of Ire- 
land, though educated chiefly in England : her father was 
a Roman catholic, her mother a rigid presbyterian, who 
not only stipulated for the enjoyment of her own religion 
but the privilege of educating her daughters in the same 
tenets, which were therefore adopted by Mrs. Burke. 
It has been asserted, however, that she was a catholic^ 
H 



58 LIFE OF THE 

and among a hundred other shameful slanders vented 
against her husband, by political enemies, assuming even 
to write his life, was one that he kept a popish priest in 
the house for her, upon whom he continually exercised 
his love for deistical raillery. It is difficult to conceive 
more malicious or more abominable falsehoods, which 
had not even a shadow of foundation ; they are an epi- 
tome, however, of that *' hunt of obloquy," in his own 
words, " which has ever pursued me with a full cry 
through life." 

This union was to him a source of comfort ever after. 
Added to affectionate admiration of his talents, she pos- 
sessed accomplishments, good sense, goodness of heart, 
and a sweetness of manners and disposition which serv- 
ed to allay many of the anxieties of his future career, — 
the labours to attain fame and independence, the fretful 
moments attendant on severe study, the irritations pro- 
duced by party and political zeal, and the tempestuous 
passions engendered tf constant contention in active par- 
liamentary life. He repeatedly declared that ** every 
care vanished the moment he entered under his own 
roof." He wrote a beautiful piece, filling closely a sheet 
of letter paper, the idea of a perfect wife^ which he pre- 
sented to her one morning on the anniversary of their 
marriage, delicately heading the paper thus, " The Cha- 
racter of '' leaving her to fill up the blank. To 

his friends also, the earliest as well as the latest, she was 
equally a theme of praise. William Burke thus writes 
of her in March, 1766 :— " Poor Mrs. Burke has been 
visited by a most severe cold ; the delicacy of her frame, 
and that infinity of intrinsic worth that makes her dear to 
us, raised some anxious apjMehensions ; but, thank God ! 
she is so much better that our fears are no more.' Men 
of genius are seldom so fortunate in their partners ; by 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. * 59 

nature an ideal race, they look perliaps for more perfec- 
tions than commonly fall to the lot of humanity, and ex- 
pecting to meet with angels, are sadly disappointed in 
finding mere women. — 

The war then lately commenced with France exciting 
attention to the American colonies as one of the chief 
points in dispute, there came out in April, ITS?, in two 
volumes octavo, " An Account of the European settle- 
ments in America.'' 

Doubts have been often started whether Mr. Burke 
was the sole or joint author of this work ; there is, how- 
ever, no question but that he wrote, if not the whole of 
it, at least by far the greater part. Mr. Shackleton, who 
had no other means of knowing the fact than from himself 
or his family, always stated it to be wholly his. The 
Editor of the edition published by Stockdale in 1808, 
asserts positively that he saw the receipt for the copy 
money, amounting to fifty guineas, in Mr. Burke's 
hand-writing. Internal evidence tends to the same con- 
clusion, both in language and manner, and particularly 
in some phrases, such as (when speaking of exchanges 
of territor} ) the " cutting and shuffling of a treaty of 
peace," and others equally peculiar, which may be found 
in his future works. Toward the end of the second vo- 
lume occurs a passage.on population nearly the same in 
idea and expression as used by him in an argument with 
Johnson on the same subject some years afterwards, and 
repeated by Boswell. Similar coincidences may be 
traced on other points connected uith political economy; 
and the account of the North American colonies, which 
beyond all question is his, contains the germ of some of 
his arguments, and much of that intimate acquaintance 
with the people and country, afterwards displayed by 
him in parliament. It may be remarked also, that he 



60 LIFE OF THE 

contends for the probability of a north-west passage, 
which at present occupies so much of the public atten- 
tion. 

On the other hand, ihe late Lord Macartney said it 
was the joint production of Edmund, Richard his brother 
who had joined him from Ireland, and their name-sake 
and most intimate friend through life, William Bourke; 
his lordship was on the most friendly terms with them 
all, and mijjjht have understood the fact to be so, but he 
himself did not arrive in London till above a year after 
the publication. It is also true that Edmund did not 
subsequently avow it, though for this there might be 
sufficient reasons; his reputation did not require such an 
addition, especially if it could be useful to his brother, or 
to William Bourke; he might not wish to claim as his 
own what was in part the work of others, however small 
that part might be ; and being brought out on an emer- 
gency, he might deem it an unsatisfactory as well as a 
hasty production, unworthy of his fame. 

Whether wholly his own or not, the sketch, for it pro- 
fesses to be little more, — and an apology is made in the 
preface for inequality in the style which the reader may 
not readily discover, — is in many parts masterly, the re- 
flections just and often original, but paraded perhaps too 
formally and frequently before the reader, so as sometimes 
to interfere with the facts, or almost to supersede them. 
The style is what may be termed ambitious, aiming at 
depth, terseness, and brevity, yet too frequently betraying 
the effort; no writer, however, need be ashamed of such 
a work. Mr. Dugald Stewart terms it a masterly sketch. 
Abbe Raynal is believed to have profited much by it 
in his history; and at home its popularity was such as to 
reach a seventh edition; the published price of the two 
volumes, containing above seven hundred octavo pages, 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 6l 

was only eight shillings ; this, while it accounts for the 
small sum received for the copy- right, impresses the fact 
of the little encouragement then given to literature. 

Soon after this time, Mr. Burke, under the pressure 
of temporary difficulty, is said to have disposed of his 
books, his coat of arms pasted in some of them, accor- 
ding to the story, having inadvertently disclosed the se- 
cret. Hence it has been asserted that he was frequently 
so; and those who would throw a slight of some sort 
upon his memory, in order, by the absence of any more 
substantial failings, to bring greatness down to their own 
level by some means or other, have said that for many 
years his pen, exerted in the periodical publications, af- 
forded him the only means he enjoyed of supi)ort. 

For these assertions there is little or no foundation. 
The simple fact of declining to be called to the bar, is of 
itself evidence that had he not had other resources, he 
would not have declined the profession of a barrister, 
calculated as he was beyond all question, to be the great- 
est that ever addressed a jury. His father, who possess- 
ed a handsome income from his profession, allowed him 
about 200/. per annum, at that time a liberal sum, during 
much of the time he spent in London: and though any 
additional supplies derived from the exercise of his literary 
talents were doubtless sufficiendy acceptable, as they are 
to much richer men, it is certain they were not conside- 
rable. Literature, as may be believed from the sum 
given for the work just noticed, was then a wretched 
trade. Johnson, the first author of the age, could barely 
elevate himself above abject poverty; and parliamentary, 
legal, and theatrical reporting, now a source of emolu- 
ment to many, and by which several of the law students 
are enabled to keep their terms with little expense to 
their friends, were then in a great degree unknown. 



0;!} LIFE OF THE 

There is indeed an amusing, but rather absurd coyness 
among the scribbling race themselves, about being 
known to write for periodical works, and to receive pay- 
ment for their labours. After all, as no man writes well 
by intuition, so magazines, pamphlets, and newspapers, 
form the natural nurseries for unfledged authors ; in these 
they try the strength of their wing before engaging in 
more arduous flights. Some make the experiment for 
amusement, some for improvement, some to circulate a 
favourite opinion, and some who are nevertheless not at 
all dependant on such small and casual supplies, to be 
enabled by the produce to add to their libraries.* 

Why there should be any slight attached to the idea 
of profiting in a pecuniary way by literary labour, it is 
difficult to conceive. To accept the reward, is not ne- 
cessarily to be in want of it, or to be under obligation by 
receiving it. " He who writes otherwise than for mo- 
ney,'^ said Dr. Johnson, " is a fool." So thought Mr. 
Burke ; so said Darwin ; so say, and so think, most others 
whose writings are in request by the world, or who 
know the solitary toil by which alone a good work can be 
produced, and who in other respects care nothing for 
money. No man in any station of life ; no statesman, no 
lawyer, no physician, no clergyman, no soldier, gives his 
labours, mental or bodily, to society, without hire. Why 
then should not the author also have his hire without 

* A young author, perfectly independent of literature as a 
trade, lately received from the conductor of a periodical work 
a few pounds for some of his essays, which he directly laid out 
in books. " This money," said he, " gives me more pleasure 
than ten times the sum arising from any other source. I take 
pride in it, because by the labour of my own mind I am enabled 
to make myself more extensively acquainted with the minds of 
others." 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 63 

slight or reproach ? He who writes gratuitously for a 
bookseller, works for a man probably richer than himself. 
This species of charity is therefore misapplied. If a 
writer can afford to be generous, let it be to those who 
are really in want; for the fruits of his ingenuity, whe- 
ther diurnal, monthly, or quarterly, if not necessary to 
himself may be advantageously applied to purposes of 
private benevolence. 

Some few years ago, when a member of the House 
of Commons, of the party of Mr. Fox, under the influ- 
ence of erroneous information, had been throwing some 
slight upon the memory of Mr. Burke, as having been 
obliged to write in the periodical publications for subsis- 
tence previously to coming into parliament, Mrs Burke, 
who saw the statement in the newspapers, ran her pen 
through it in the presence of some friends, observing, 
*' Mr. Burke himself would not take the trouble to con- 
tradict this, nor indeed any thing else they say of him, 
but really I have no patience with such reports ; I declare 
them from my own knowledge gross and unfounded 
falsehoods ; that he received money for his publications 
is true, but the amount was very small — not worth men- 
tioning as a means of support." 



CHAPTER HI. 

Abridgment of English history. — Annual Register.-— Ac- 
quaintance xvith Dr. Johnson^ Mrs. Ann Pitty Hume, 
Lord Charlemont, Gerrard Hamilton, Barry, Gold- 
smith. 

The reputation of the Essay on the Sublime and Beauti- 
ful being quickly dlffsised through the literary world by the 
trading critics, as well as the most eminent private judgef? 



6^ LIFE OF THE 

of the day, immediately stamped the author's fame as a 
man of uncommon ingenuity and very profound philoso- 
phical powers ; though some of his theories did not, as 
might be expected in investigating matters of taste, re- 
ceive universal assent. 

In 1757 a new edition was called for, to which was 
prefixed, for the first time, the introductory chapter on 
taste. To his father, who had not been well pleased with 
his desertion of the law, a copy was sent, which produ- 
ced in return a present of 100/. as a testimony of paternal 
admiration. Another copy he despatched to his friend 
Shackleton, and on one of the blank leaves wrote, as ex- 
pressive of his affectionate and unceasing regard — 

Accipe et hsec manuum tibi quse monumenta meorum 
Sint — et longum testentur amorem ; 

and all his future political works, especially the Thoughts 
on the Discontents, the Reflections on the French Revo- 
lution, the Appeal from the New to the Old Whigs, 
were transmitted to the same friend. 

In the letter accompanying the Essay, dated from Bat- 
tersea, August 10, 1757, he says, in jocular allusion to 
his matrimonial adventure, " I am now a married man 
myself, and therefore claim some respect from the mar- 
ried fraternity ; at least for your own sakes you will not 
pretend to consider me the worse man." And in another 
part of this letter he apologizes for a long silence by his 
" manner of life, chequered with various designs, some- 
times in London, sometimes in remote parts of the coun- 
try, sometimes in France, and shortly, please God to be, 
in America." 

The design expressed in the latter part of this sentence 
never took effect ; neither is the object of it clearly known; 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 65 

some believing it to have been the offer of a small situa- 
tion under government ; others the invitation of an old 
fellow-collegian settled in Philadelphia, who thought the 
sphere of the new world offered a less crowded area 
for the display of his talents. Whatever may have been 
the inducement, fortunately he did not persevere in his 
purpose ; genius might have lost one of her most favour- 
ed offspring, and England one of her greatest ornaments. 
But the fact is curious in itself, as expressive of the 
same vague idea of expatriation which prevailed among 
many of the extraordinary political characters of the pre- 
ceding century, and with some of the men of genius, as 
Goldsmith, Burns and others, of our own. 

In January 1758, his domestic circle received an addi- 
tion by the birth of that favourite son, who through life 
was beloved wiffi even more than parental fondness, and 
whose death, at the early age of 35, tended to hasten 
his own. Another son, named Edmund, born about 
two years afterwards, died in infancy. The wants of an 
increasing family proved an irresistible stimulus to in- 
dustry by all the means within his power, and his pen at 
this time was actively employed on a variety of subjects, 
some of which, never published, as well as others of an 
earlier date, though pretty well ascertained to be in exis- 
tence, have not been recovered by his executors. 

One of those which remained in his own possession, 
was an " Essay towards an Abridgment of English His- 
tory," which he had intimated to his Ballitore friends 
some time previously, it was his intention to write at 
length. 

Eight sheets of this work were printed for Dodsley in 
1757, but it was then discontinued, probably from hear- 
ing that Hume was engaged in treating of the same period 
of time, and perhaps from being unable to satisfy his own 
I 



66 LIFE OP THE 

taste, which, on an historical subject, was fastidious. It 
displays, however, a spirit of close research into the 
earlier history of our island, not exceeded, perhaps not 
equalled, by works of much greater pretension; and that 
portion devoted to the aboriginal people, to the Druids, 
to the setdement of the Saxons, and to the details relative 
to their laws and institutions, contains some information 
new to the general reader. The style differs from that 
of the " European Settlements," in aiming at less of 
effect, and is in many places elegant ; the characters of 
William the Conqueror, Henry II. and John are happily 
sketched, and the distinguishing circumstances of their 
reigns well selected for narration, considered as a work 
written at the age of twenty-six. 

At this moment also English literature and English 
history became indebted to him in no ordinary degree by 
the establishment, in conjunction with Dodsley, of the 
Annual Register. Of the excellence and utility of this 
work, the plan of which was ingenious, while the execu- 
tion ensured great and unfading popularity, there never 
has been but one opinion. Several of the first volumes 
passed to a fifth and sixth edition.' It is the best, and, 
without any admixture of their trash, or being tediously 
minute, the most comprehensive of all the periodical 
works; many of the sketches of contemporary history, 
written from his immediate dictation for about thirty 
years, are not merely valuable as coming from such a 
pen, but masterly in themselves; and in the estimation of 
some of the chief writers of our day, are not likely to be 
improved by any future historian. They form, in fact, 
the chief sources whence all the chief histories of the 
last sixty years have been, and must continue to be, com- 
piled, besides furnishing a variety of other useful and il- 
lustrative matter. The Annual Register for 1758, the 







"^ 



h 



'^ 



1 




14 



-^ - 



4 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 6^ 

first of the series, came out in June of the following year. 
Latterly a Mr. Ireland wrote nnuch of it under Mr. 
Burke's immediate direction. 

This work also he never thought proper to claim. 
The fact of his participation in it has been always matter 
of doubt, though, from an attentive examination of cir- 
cumstances minute in themselves, added to the modesty 
with which he speaks of himself at all times, and even 
the suppression of his name on important occasions, when 
some extraordinary compliments were paid him, both in 
and out of the House of Commons, the present writer was 
satisfied of the affirmative, even before he received more 
positive information. The sum allowed for it by Dods- 
ley was only 100/.; several of the receipts for the copy- 
money, in his own hand-writing, are still extant; the two 
following, for the year 1761, as being at hand, are given 
for the satisfaction of the reader :* — 

" Received from Mr. Dodsley the sum of 50/. on ac- 
count of the Annual Register of 1761, this 28th March, 
1761. ' "Edm. Burke.'^ 

" Received from Messrs. R. and T. Dodslev, the sum 
of 50/. sterling, being in full for the Annual Register of 
1761, this 30th day of March, 1762. 

" Edm. Burke.'^ 

Trifling causes are tritely said to be sometimes produc- 
tive of important effects; and the composition of the An- 
nual Register may have tended to influence the future 

* The originals, written on narrow slips of (of course) un- 
stamped paper, are in the possession of William Upcott, Esq. of 
the London Institution, to whom I am indebted for a perusal of 
them. 



68 LIFE OF THE 

career and fame of its author. By the investigations ne- 
cessary for the historical article he became acquainted 
with the workings of practical politics, the secret springs 
by which they were put in motion, and with some of the 
chief actors concerned. A careful writer of contempo- 
rary history for a series of years, cannot avoid, if he would, 
minutely scanning the political features of his own coun- 
try and of Europe. He who has to speak during the 
session, and meditate during the recess — who acts on the 
great theatre of politics one half the j^ear, and who must 
combine, analyse, and ponder upon the proceedings in 
order to write upon them during the other, may not ulti- 
mately become a wise or great statesman ; but there is 
no doubt that he goes the most effectual way towards it. 
To Mr. Burke it imparted knowledge and experience 
almost without the trouble of the search. 

An intimacy between him and the eminent Samuel 
Johnson had commenced some time previous to this, at 
the table of Garrick. On Christmas day, 1758, Mr. 
Murphy dined with them, and was surprised to find the 
lexicographer submit to contradiction, India being the 
subject of discussion, from his companion twenty years 
younger than himself, which he would tolerate in no 
other person, whatever their talents or experience. A 
mutual admiration seemed to be the first feeling between 
them, which nothing afterward served to diminish; sur- 
viving occasional sharp contentions for victory in conver- 
sation, the clashing of opposite political attachments and 
opinions, the almost irreconciieable feuds occasioned even 
among friends by the American contest, and the devoted 
adherence of the orator to that party which the other in 
his strong manner denominated " Whig dogs." 

Nothing contributed more to this esteem than Burke's 
faculty to excel in what his friend so eminently practised 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 69 

himself and loved in others, " good talk." The conver- 
sation of the former, if less striking than that of Johnson, 
was more conciliating; if less pungent perhaps quite as 
entertaining, and in general society much more accept- 
able. 

He communicated to his hearers scarcely less infor- 
mation without leaving any sting behind it of bitter sar- 
casm, or rude contempt, to rankle in the breast of a de- 
feated antagonist. His manners were at the same time 
unassuming, distinguished more for suavity than that va- 
riety and vivacity which are often the results of studied 
efforts at display. 

No great man ever praised another more than Johnson 
praised Burke. Remarking in conversation that the fame 
of men was generally exaggerated in the world, some- 
body quoted Burke as an exception, and he instantlv 
admitted it — " Yes ; Burke is an extraordinary man ; his 
stream of mind is perpetual." " Burke's talk," said he 
at another time, " is the ebullition of his mind ; he does 
not talk from a desire of distinction, but because nis mind 
is full." An argumentative contest with him, he seemed 
to think required such exertion of his powers, that when 
unwell at one time, and Burke's name was mentioned, he 
observed, " If that fellow were here now he would kill 
me." " Burke," added he again, " is the only man 
whose common conversation corresponds with the gene- 
ral fame which he has in the world. Take up whatever 
topic you please, he is ready to meet you." Often did 
he repeat, *' That no man of sense could meet Mr. Burke 
by accident under a gateway, to avoid a shower, without 
being convinced that he was the first man in England." 
A frequent question to Mr. Murphy was, " Are you not 
proud of your countryman ?" adding occasionally, " Cum 
talis sit utinam noster esset !" Of all the triumphs of 



70 LIFE OF THE 

Mr. Burke, it was perhaps the greatest to compel the 
admiration and personal love of a man whose mind was 
at once so capacious and so good, so powerful and so 
prejudiced, so celebrated, and so deserving of celebrity. 

Among the other eminent persons to which the repu- 
tation of his philosophical essay and powers of conversa- 
tion gave a ready introduction, were George Lord Little- 
ton, Mr. Fitzherbert, member for Derby, Soame Jenyns, 
Mr. (afterwards Sir Joshua) Reynolds, Dr. Markham, 
afterwards Archbishop of York, Pulteney Earl of Bath, 
and perhaps a more remarkable person than either, Mrs. 
Anne Pitt, sister of the celebrated minister then at the 
head of the cabinet. This lady, Mr. Burke used to say, 
possessed not only great and agreeable talents, but was 
the most perfectly eloquent person he ever heard speak. 
He lamented not having committed to paper one particu- 
lar conversation in which the richness and variety of her 
discourse quite astonished him. She was accustomed 
to tell her great brother in their argumentative contests, 
that he knew nothing but Spenser's Fairy Queen. " And 
no matter how that was said," added Mr. Burke, in 
mentioning the circumstance, " but whoever relishes and 
reads Spenser as he ought to be read, will have a strong 
hold of the English language." 

Hume, whom he first met at the table of Garrick, was 
another acquaintance; and the historian found his opinions 
of so much consequence in London, that on the publica- 
tion of Adam Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiments, he 
thought it necessary to present him with a copy, writing 
his reasons to the author, April 1st, 1759. 

" Wedderburn and I made presents of our copies to 
such of our acquaintance as we thought good judges, and 
proper to spread the reputation of the book. I sent one 
to the Duke of Argyle, to Lord Littleton, Horace Wal- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 7i 

pole, Soame Jenyns, and Burke, an Irish gentleman, who 
wrote lately a very pretty treatise on the Sublime." No 
particular intimacy arose from this civility. On religion 
and politics their sentiments were too diametrically op- 
posite ever to approach to agreement; and a difference of 
opinion respecting the Irish massacre of 1641, gave rise 
to some animated discussions between them; Burke 
maintaining, from documents existing in Dublin Univer- 
sity, that the common accounts of that event were over- 
charged; Hume, that the statements in his history were 
correct. With Adam Smith himself a greater degree of 
friendship prevailed; his work was termed in the Annual 
Register of that year " excellent; a dry abstract of which 
would convey no juster idea of it than the skeleton of a 
departed beauty would of her form when she was alive." 
And on subsequently coming to London, this philosopher 
paid a high compliment to the sound judgment of Mr. 
Burke, as the only man he had met with who thought as 
he did on the chief topics of political economy, without 
previous communication. 

About this time Mr. Burke occasionally resided at 
Plaistovv in Essex. A lady, then about fourteen years 
old, and residing in that neighbourhood, informs the 
writer that she perfectly remembers him there; that his 
brother Richard lived chiefly with him ; and that they 
were much noticed in the neighbourhood for talents and 
sociable qualities, and particularly for having a variety of 
visitors who were understood to be authors soliciting an 
opinion of their works. Some of the best books of the 
time, as Hume and Robertson's Histories, Leland's Philip 
of Macedon, Walpole's Royal and Noble Authors, and 
a variety of others, were sent for his perusal, and some 
were noticed in the Annual Register, though it may be 
doubted whether his connection with it was known. In 



72 LIFE OF THE 

noticii^^ Johiibon's Rasselas, in this year, there is an 
observation which has been (^ften repeated since by other 
critics, as if the writers claimed it for their own. " The 
instruction which is found in works of this kind, when 
they convey any instruction at all, is not the predominant 
part, but arises accidentally in the course of a story plan- 
ned only to please. But in this novel, the moral is the 
principal object, and the story is a mere vehicle to convey 
the instruction." 

Mr. William Bourke was also frequently there, who 
possessing very considerable talents, literary and political, 
and united in the strictest friendship with Edmund and 
Richard from boyhood, was said to be associated with 
them in some of their writings. On the publication in 1760 
of Lord Bath's letter to two great men, meaning Mr. Pitt, 
and the Duke of Newcastle, on the propriety of retaining 
Canada in preference to any acquisitions in the West In- 
dies, in the proposed conditions of peace, this gentleman 
wrote a reply strongl) recommending the retention of 
Guadaloupe ; to w hich Dr. Franklin thought it necessary 
to write a rejoinder, supporting the opinion of Lord Bath. 
Another pamphlet said to have been corrected by Ed- 
mund, came from the pen of William Bourke, in 1761, 
on the failure of the negociation with M. Bussy, enti- 
tled, " An Examination of the Commercial Principles of 
the late Negociation." Some further notices of him 
will occur hereafter ; it may be remarked however, that 
he and Richard Burke wrote much on political topics in 
the newspapers and other periodical works at this time, 
and for nearly twenty years afterwards, which has been 
improperly attributed to Edmund, who, from being in 
parliament, found sufficient employment in pursuing no- 
bler game. 

The latter, indeed, in addition to his literary labours, 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 73 

was now endeavouring to push his way in the political 
world, to compensate for the advantages of the profession 
which he had deserted. He was not, however, as has 
been said, either living in obscurity, or in distress, but, on 
the contr.»ry, associating with some of the first political 
characters in the country, though himself in a private sta- 
tion. He occupied a house in Queen Anne Street, near 
to Mr. Fitzherbert's ; his father in-law, Dr. Nugent, \\ ho 
had removed to London, lived with him, and, for the 
seven follow ing years, until his removal to Beaconsfield, 
they continued together a most united and happy family. 

His predilections were undoubtedly political ; much of 
his studies and writings tended to this point ; the society 
with v\hich he mixed served to confirm it ; and the pos- 
session of an al)le pen, a clear head, and a latent confi- 
dence in his own powers, increased a prepossession 
which promised the readiest avenue to fame and power. 
A slender opening into public life at length seemed to 
offer. 

Among the warmest admirers of his talents was the 
amiable and patriotic Lord Charleniont ; a peer without 
pride, a man of fashion without foppery, a good scholar 
though never at a public school or university, a volumi- 
nous writer without courting the honours of the press, 
and a patriot with little of the leaven of faction. Born to 
a title and competent fortune, he laid his country under 
no contribution, and on most occasions gave his vote to 
the ministry or to the opposition as the puplic interests 
seemed to require. He lived chiefly in Ireland, not as a 
matter of preference, but from a sense of duty to the 
country whence he derived his birth and his income. 
He wielded many years after this time a tremendous mi- 
litary engine, the Irish Volunteers, at a moment of strong 
national excitement and difficulty, in a manner the most 
K 



y-h l-Il E OF THK 

prudent and able. A patron and friend ot" literature, he 
sought and valued the society of its most eminent pro- 
fessors. No man was more popular in his own country, 
or seemed better to approach the model of what a noble- 
man should be in all countries. 

Mr. Burke said many years afterwards, " Lord Charle- 
mont is a man of such polished manners, of a mind so 
truly adorned, and disposed to the adoption of whatever 
is excellent and praiseworthy, that to see and converse 
with him would alone induce me, or might induce any 
one who relished such qualities, to pay a visit to Dublin." 

His weiiknesses were few, and would not be worth enu- 
merating, had not some of them led, almost in the last 
stage of life, to an interruption of correspondence with 
his then celebrated friend. He thought that public vir- 
tue centred chiefly in the Whigs ; he had too strong a 
jealousy of his Roman Catholic fellow- subjects ; he con- 
sidered the revolution in France as the dawn of rational 
liberty ; he leaned to the question of parliamentary re- 
form in Ireland, at a moment when he saw and acknow- 
ledged that its chief supporters entertained, as the subse- 
quent rebellion proved, more dangerous designs ; and 
he was too much of an Irishman to look on the contem- 
plated union with England otherwise than as the ruin of 
his country. 

By this distinguished character Mr. Burke was intro- 
duced in 1759 to another of not less notoriety. This was 
Mr. William Gerard (commonly called single-speech) 
Hamilton, a gentleman who, after a few able efforts in 
the House of Commons, gained more celebrity by after- 
wards keeping his tongue still, than many others by 
the most determined volubility. The son of a lawyer, 
grounded in the same profession himself, and bred at 
Oriel College, Oxford, he, in May, 1754, transplanted 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 75 

himself from Lincoln's Inn to the House of Commons 
as member for Petersfiekl. A brilliant speech eighteen 
months afterwards, followed by one or two others of 
less interest, made him a lord of trade in 1756, of which 
board Lord Halifax uas then president. With this no- 
bleman, created lord-lieutenant or Ireland, he proceeded 
thither in 1761 as chief secretary, shone off vividly on 
two or three occasions, returned to England in about 
three years, and, though a senator for the remainder of 
his life, above thirty years, his lips within the house 
were ever after hermetically sealed to public discussion. 
While he declined, however, to give the country his ad- 
vice, he did not hesitate to take ts money, having en- 
joyed the sinecure of Chancellor of the Irish Exchequer 
from 1763 to 1784, when it was resigned, though not 
without an equivalent, to Mr. Foster. 

His talents were reckoned of the first class, his under- 
standing clear, his judgment sound, particularly, as his 
friends said, on the first view of a question before his in- 
genuity had time to fritter it away in useless subtleties 
and refinements ; his wit pointed, his oratory epigram- 
matic and antithetical, his conversation easy and agreea- 
ble. In composition he was laboriously affected, a lite- 
rary fop of the most determined cast ; for a stop omitted, 
a sentence not fully turned, or a word that upon reflec- 
tion could be amended, were sufficient to occasion tre 
recal of a note to a familiar acquaintance. What he 
uttered in public partook of the same labour. He was 
perhaps the only member of either house who ever wrote, 
got by heart, and rehearsed his speeches in private, pre- 
vious to their delivery in the House of Coinmons. One 
of these, three hours in length, Lord Charlemont knew 
to have been repeated three times before a friend. 

He possessed, however, a very .useful faculty, — a clear 



76 LIFE OF THE 

insight into character, which, after the first introduction, 
made him cultivate the acquaintance of Mr. Burke, with 
a desire of attaching him to his own service. The ap- 
pointment to Ireland opportunely offered for this purpose; 
it Avas settled that he should accompany him, partly as 
a friend, partly in the situation of private secretary, in 
which, as being perfectly conversant with the local in- 
terests, parties, and public characters of the country, his 
services promised to be of the highest value. 

In March, 1761, the appointments were arranged, 
though the members of government did not reach Dublin 
till the ensuing October. Lord Halifax displayed so 
much skill in his administration, as to disarm and neu- 
tralise to any purposes of discord, the contending factions 
by which that country was then, and has been since, 
often kept in a flame. What share Mr. Burke had in 
giving private advice cannot now be known ; he himself, 
as will be seen, speaks of "a long and laborious attend- 
ance;'' and \\hatever were his suggestions, Hamilton, as 
chief, would naturally take the credit of them to himself. 
One of these, in conjunction with Lord Kenmare, is be- 
lieved to have been the scheme of raising during a period 
of distress among the peasantry, six regiments of Catho- 
lics, officered by persons of the same persuasion, for 
the service of Portugal, which failed through the oppo- 
sition of some of the great landed proprietors in the west 
of Ireland. That his abilities were considered of no 
common order, may be inferred from the fact of the in- 
timacy formed at this time with Mr. Flood, Sir Hercules 
Lungrishe, Mr. Monk Mason, Mr. Pery, afterwards 
Speaker of the Irish House of Commons and a peer, 
several of them old fellow -collegians, besides the friend- 
ship of Primate Stone and others, the chief men of talents 
and influence in both houses of parliament. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. T! 

The opportunity afforded by this trip of renewinyj con- 
nexions of this class which had been interrupted by his 
stay in England, and of seeing; all his old friends, was not 
neglected ; he also made a visit of some length to Cork 
and its vicinity, and more than once to Ballitore. Mr. 
and Mrs. Shackleton in return, calling at his apartments 
in Dublin castle, surprised him on the carpet busily oc- 
cupied in romping with his two boys, and used to men- 
tion the affectionate interest he took in their infantile 
amusements as a proof of an amiable mind, joined to 
what the world knew to be a great mrnd. Even to a 
late period of life he delighted in children, amusing him- 
self with what he called " his men in miniature," fre- 
quently participating in their juvenile sports, and, while 
playing with them, perhaps at the same moment instruct- 
ing their grandfathers, by turning from one to the other 
to throw out some forcible truth upon human nature, 
from the scene which their little habits, passions, and 
contentions afforded. It was no unfrequent thing to see 
Mr. Burke spinning a top or a tee-totum with the boys 
who occasionally visited him at Beaconsfield ; the follow- 
ing is an instance of the same kind. 

A gentleman well known in the literary and political 
world, who when young amused himself by taking long 
walks in the vicinity of London, once directed his steps 
to Harrow, about the time of the coalidon ministry, when 
on a green in front of a small cottage, he spied an assem- 
blage of such men as are rarely seen together; Mr. Burke, 
Mr. Fox, Mr. Sheridan, (the owner of the cottage,) Lord 
John Tovvnshend, Lord William Russel, and four or five 
others the most eminent of the Whig party, diverting 
themselves after, what was then customary, isw early din- 
ner. Mr. Burke's em])loyment was the most conspicu- 
ous; it was in rapidly wheeling a boy (the late Mr. The- 



yo LIFE OF THE 

mas Sheridan) round the sward in a child's hand-chaise, 
with an alertness and vivacity that indicated an almost 
equal enjoyment in the sport with his youn^ companion; 
who in fact was so much pleased with his playfellow, that 
he would not lei him desist, nor did the orator seem 
much to desire it, till a summons to horse announced the 
separation of the party. 

In the intervals of business in Dublin, he occasionally 
visited England on matters connected with his literary 
pursuits, v,hich were not neglected. In iMarch, 1763, 
when in Queen Anne Street, he received the reward of 
his services in his native country in a pension of 300/. 
per annum on the Irish establishment, through the in- 
terest, as he said, in writing to a friend in Ireland shortly 
after, of Mr. Hamilton and my Lord Primate." This 
boon was enjoyed for no more than eighteen months, 
when, from the unreasonable and degrading claims made 
upon his gratitude, it was thrown up with indignation. 
The particulars, as related by himself shordy after the 
transaction in a letter to Mr. Flood, have only lately 
transpired, and they are too honourable to the writer and 
too interesting to the reader to be given in other than his 
own words; they exhibit with what indifference a high 
and manly spirit relinquished a pecuniary favour, granted 
unconditionally, when its continued acceptance could be 
construed, however illiberally, into an obligation to future 
servitude. — 

My dear Flood, 
" I thank you for vour kind and most obliging letters; 
voii are a person whose good offices are not snares, and 
to whom one may venture to be obliged without danger 
to his honour. As I depend upon your sincerity, so I 
shall most certainly call upon your friendship, if I should 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 79 

have any thing to do in Ireland; this, however, is not 
the case at present, at least in any way in which your in- 
terposition may be employed with a proper attention to 
yourself; a point which I shall always very tenderly con- 
sider in any application I make to my friends. 

" It is very true that there is an eternal rupture between 
me and Hamilton, which was on my side neither sought 
nor provoked ; for though his conduct in public affairs 
has been for a long time directly contrary to my opinions, 
very reproachful to himself, and extremely disgustful to 
me ; and though in private he has not justly fulfilled one 
of his engagements to me, yet I was so uneasy and awk- 
ward at coming to a breach, where I had once a close 
and intimate friendship, that I continued with a kind of 
desperate fidelity to adhere to his cause and person; and 
when I found him greatly disposed to quarrel with me, 
I used such submissive measures as I never before could 
prevail upon myself to use to any man. 

" The occasion of our difference was not any act what- 
soever on my part; it was entirely on his, by a voluntary 
but most insolent and intolerable demand, amounting to 
no less than a claim of servitude during the whole course 
of my life, without leaving me at any time a power either 
of getting forward with honour, or of retiring wih tran- 
quillity. This was really and truly the substance of his 
demand upon me, to which I need not tell you I refused 
with some degree of indignation, to submit. On this we 
ceased to see each other, or to correspond a good while 
before you left London. He then commenced, through 
the intervention of others, a negociation with me, in 
which he showed as much of meanness in his proposals 
as he had done of arrogance in his demands; but as all 
these proposals were vitiated by the taint of that servitude 



80 LIFE OF THE 

with which they were all mixed, his negociation came to 
nothing. 

" He grounded these monstrous claims (such as never 
were before heard of in this countr)) on that pension 
which he had procured for me through Colonel Cunning- 
ham, the late Primate, and Lord Halifax, for, through all 
that series of persons, this paltry business was contrived 
to pass. Now, thf 'Ugh I v\ as sensible that I owed this 
pension to the good will of the Primate in a great degree, 
and though, if it had come from Hamilton's pocket, in- 
stead of being derived from the Irish treasury, I had 
earned it by a long and laborious attendance, and might, 
in any other than that unfortunaje connexion, have got a 
much better thing; yet, to get rid of him completely, and 
not to carry a memorial of such a person about me, I 
offered to transmit it to his attorney in trust for him. 
This offer he thought proper to accept. I beg pardon, 
my dear Flood, for troubling you so long on a subject 
which ought not to employ a moment of your thoughts, 
and never shall again employ a moment of mine." 

It is diiBcult to read this without experiencing mingled 
feelings of admiration and contempt; — of admiration for 
the honest independence cf principle of one man, con- 
trasted with the unusual degree of tyranny and meanness 
exhibited by another. For, whether Hamilton pocketed 
the amount of the pension himself, which from his conduct 
is scarcely improbable, or exacted it from his friend in 
order to gratify a pitiful resentment by distressing him; 
the transaction is extremely discreditable to his memory. 
An intimate friend, who has written a short sketch of 
his life, appears to have thought so, for he makes no al- 
lusion whatever to his connexion with Burke. 

The conduct of the latter became still more magnani- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 81 

mous by carryinj^ the point of honour, or, as he empha- 
tically termed it, " desperate fidelity," so far, that the 
story, though so well calculated to tell to his own advan- 
tage, never till recently found its way to the public ear, 
and this only, it appears, by the letter accidentally being 
rescued from the flames.* Yet even this honourable 
reserve was tortured into a handle for party misrepresen- 
tation; for it has been eagerly circulated, and with the 
same perseverance as other equally unfounded rumours, 
that this very pension, thus surrendered from the most 
upright motives, was sold for a sum of money to pay his 
debts; adding, by the same ingenious perversion of fact, 
that it was not surprising he had deserted his last friends, 
because he had deserted his first! Other rumours in 
the same spirit, and quite as true, were circulated res- 
pecting their union and separation, which, were they not 
sometimes copied into popular books where they ma}'' 
possibly deceive, would be beneath notice. 

It has been stated, that Burke wrote Hamilton's 
speeches ; and the fact of the latter remaining tongue-tied 
for so many years, in the presence of his old associate, 
and then professed opponent in politics, gave some coun- 
tenance to the assertion, though quite unfounded in fact. 
On their quarrel, Hamilton is said to have upbraid- 
ed him with having taken him from a garret; when the 
reply is reported to have been, '* Then, Sir, by your own 
confession it was I that descended to you." Some apology 
is necessary to the reader, for repeating this silly false- 
hood, told of half a dozen other persons beside; putting 
aside the utter want of truth in the story or the reproach, 
Hamilton had too much of the manners of a gentleman, 
at least, if deficient in the proper feelings of one, to m^ke 

* By one of Mr. Flood's executoih^ 



8S LIFE or THE 

such a speech, had the circumstance been true ; and 
Burke too much spirit to reply, not by a pitiful pun, but 
by chastising the speaker on the spot. 

The fact really was, that no interview took place on the 
dissolution of their friendship. Alont^ with the inclosure 
to the attorney alluded to in the letter just quoted, was 
sent an eloquent valedictory epibde, which Hamilton 
many years after had the candour to confess, was one of 
the finest compositions he had ever read ; it is not known 
that he showed it to his friends. It is also unknown 
what were the private eni^agements he forfeited to Mr. 
Burke, though the latter retained through life a strong 
sense of having been unjustly and insolently treated by 
him on that occasion. The real grounds of this quarrel 
verify an observation of the late Bishop O^Beirne, who, 
when a gentleman of some political consideration in Ire- 
land, remarked to him, that though he himself had per- 
fect confidence in Burke's strict principle and honour 
upon all occasions, yet others, who did not know him so 
well, were less inclined to give him credit for some unex- 
plained parts of his conduct ; " Believe me," said the 
Bishop, *' if there be an obscure point in the life or con- 
duct of Edmund Burke, the moment the explanation ar- 
rives, it will be found to redound to his honour." 

The conclusion of the letter to Mr. Flood, as it exhi- 
bits the near view of public affairs, which Mr. Burke en- 
joyed even at this time, and relates some curious parti- 
culars of the ministry, is worthy of preservation. — 

" To your inquiries concerning some propositions in 
a certain assembly, of a nature injurious to Ireland, since 
your departure. — I know nothing of that kind, except 
one attempt made by a Mr. Shiffner, to lessen the num- 
ber of the ports of entry in Britain and Ireland, allowed 
for the trade of wool and woollen yarn of the growth of 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 83 

the latter country. This attempt was grounded on the 
decrease of the import of those commodities from Ire- 
land, which they rashly attributed to the great facility of 
the illicit transport of wool from Ireland to France, by 
the indulgence of a number of ports. This idea, found- 
ed in an ignorance of the nature of the Irish trade had 
weight with some persons, but the decreased import of 
Irish wool and yarn, being accounted for upon true and 
rational principles, in a short memorial delivered to Mr. 
Townshend, he saw at once into it with his usual saga- 
city ; and he has silenced the complaints at least for this 
session. Nothing else was done or meant that I could 
discover, though I have not been inattentive ; and I am 
not without good hopes that the menaces in the begin- 
ning of the session will end as they began, only in idle 
and imprudent words. At least there is a strong proba- 
bility that new men will come in, and not improbably 
with new ideas. 

" At this very instant, the causes productive of such a 
change are strongly at work.. The Regency Bill has 
shown such want of concert, and want of capacity in the 
ministers, such an inattention to the honour of the Crown, 
if not such a design against it, such imposition and sur- 
prise upon the King, and such a misrepresentation of the 
disposition of Parliament to the Sovereign, that there is 
no doubt that there is a fixed resolution to get rid of 
them all (unless perhaps of Grenville ;) but principally 
of the Duke of Bedford ; so that you will have much 
more reason to be surprised to find the ministry stand- 
ing by the end of next week, than to hear of their entire 
removal. Nothing but an intractable temper in your 
friend Pitt can prevent a most admirable and lasting sys- 
tem from being put together, and this crisis will show 
whether pride or patriotism be predominant in his cha- 



84! LIFE OF THE 

racter; for you may be assured, he has it now in his 
power to come into the service of his country upon any 
plan of politics he may choose to dictate, with great and 
honourable terms to himself and to every friend he has 
in the world, and with such a stren^rth of power as 
will be equal to every thing, but absolute despotism 
over the King and kingdom. A few days will show 
whether he will take this part, or that continuing on his 
back at Hayes talking fustian, excluded from all ministe- 
rial and incapable of all parliamentary service. For his 
gout is worse than ever, but his pride may disable him 
more than his gout. These matters so fill our imagina- 
tions here, that with our mob of 6 or 7000 weavers, who 
pursue the Ministry, and do not leave them quiet or safe 
in their own houses, we have litde to think of other things. 

" I will send you the new edition of Swift's posthu- 
mous works. I doubt you can hardly read this hand ; 
but it is very late. Mrs. Burke has been ill and reco- 
vers but slowly ; she desires her respects to you and 
Lady Frances. lulus is much obliged to you. Will. 
Bourke always remembers you with affection, and so 
does my dear Flood. Your most affectionate humble 
servant, 

" 18th May, 1765. " E. Burke. 

" Pray remember me to Langrishe, and to Leland and 
Bowden. Dr. Nugent desires his compliments to you, 
in the strongest manner ; he has conceived a very high 
esteem for you." 

Previous to this rupture with Hamilton, in the autumn 
of 1763, and in the spring of 1764, Mr. Burke visited 
Dublin again, on some expectations held out by the Earl 
of Northumberland, then Lord Lieutenant ; and with 
Mrs. Burke and his son made a short stay at Ballitore. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 85 

returning to Queen Anne-street, in June. His brother 
Richard, several months previous to this, had procured 
the collectorship of the Grenadas. 

While in Dublin towards the end of 1763, Edmund 
received a letter from his old friend Dr. Sleigh, of Cork 
recommending to his attention a friendless son of genius, 
who had proceeded thence to the metropolis to exhibit 
a picture, of which in his native city no sufficient judg- 
ment could be formed. This was Barry, the celebrated 
painter. Mr. Burke saw him frequently, examined and 
praised his picture, inquired into his views and future 
prospects, and, desirous to try his powers of mind, 
broached an argument upon a question of taste rather in- 
genious than solid, which the other boldly opposed ; quot- 
ing in support of his opinion, and ignorant as it seems of 
the real author, a passage from the Essay on the Sublime 
and Beautiful. His new acquaintance contending that 
this was a poor performance and no authority, considera- 
ble discussion ensued ; at length Barry becoming very 
angry, Mr. Burke, to appease his indignation, confessed 
himself to be the writer, when the irritable but enthusias- 
tic painter, springing from his seat, ran and embraced 
him ; and as a more unequivocal proof of admiration for 
the volume in dispute, produced a copy of it, which he 
had transcribed with his own hand. 

The kindness of Mr. B irke did not stop at mere arc 
quaintance and advice ; for, though possessing but slen 
der means himself, and with quite sufficient claims upon 
them, he had too much goodness of heart, and too sincere 
sympathy with unfriended talents, to see them sink into 
hopeless neglect and poverty without at least giving them 
a chance for reu ard. No opportunities for improvement 
existing in Dublin, he offered the artist a passage to Eng- 
land with Mr. Richard Burke, just then returned from 



86 LIFE OF THE 

the West Indies, received him at his house in Queen 
Anne-street, introduced him to the principal artists, and 
procured employment for him to copy pictures under 
Athenian Stuart, till a change in his own circumstances 
enabled him to do still more. 

Whenever Parhament was sitting, Mr. B irke was ob- 
served to be a frequent attendant in the gallery, storing up 
those practical observations on public business and de- 
bate, soon to be drawn forth for active use. Most of his 
hours of study, as he frequently said afterwards, were 
devoted to a minute acquaintance with the principles and 
workings of the British Constitution. The next object 
in his eyes was our commerce ; these alone, he said, had 
made us what we u ere — a free and a great nation ; and 
these he had spared no time, no labour, no sacrifice, 
thoroughly to understand, and for these alone had well 
earned his subsequent pension before he put his foot in 
the House of Commons. It is certain that he was the 
first who rendered the principles and many of the details 
of commerce generally intelligible in that assembly. Dr. 
Johnson w^as proud to be told a few years afterwards, by 
an excellent judge, the ' omniscient' Jackson, that there 
was more good sense about trade in the account of his 
journey to the Western Islands of Scotland, than would 
be heard for a whole year in Parliament, except from 
Burke. 

In the discussions to which the peace and the proceed- 
ings of the Grenville Ministry gave rise, he is said to 
have taken a considerable share ; and some letters which 
excited considerable notice, under the signature of Anti- 
Sejanus, were attributed to his pen. This may be doubted, 
or in fact denied. They might have been Mr. William 
Bourke's ; but Edmund, in all the Annual Registers up 
to the period of his connexion with the Rockingham Ad- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 87 

ministration, preserves a risjid impartiality, stron-gly repro- 
bating the licentiousness of the press on both sides, and 
complaining (1764) that " character no longer depended 
on the tenor of a man's life and actions ; it was entirely 
determined by the party he had taken." 

Previous to this time, it has been said, and never de- 
nied, that he had disciplined himself in public speaking at 
the famous debating society, known by the name of the 
*' Robin Hood." Such was then the custom among law- 
students, and others intended for public life ; and a story 
is told of the future orator having commonly to encounter 
an opponent whom nobody else could overcome ; this 
person, it seems, was discovered to be a baker, whom 
Goldsmith, who had heard him several times speak, once 
characterised as being " meant by nature for a lord chan- 
cellor." Mr. Murphy had some faint recollection of the 
anecdote. Tradesmen form no inconsiderable part of 
such assemblies ; and as unlettered minds often think ori- 
ginally, though crudely, it may not be useless to one bet- 
ter informed, thus to seek exercise by beating down their 
errors. A circumstance almost precisely similar occurred 
to the late celebrated Mr. Curran, when keeping his terms 
in London. 

A suggestion of Mr. Reynolds to Mr. Burke, between 
whom a close friendship existed, cemented by admira- 
tion of each other's talents and private virtues, gave birth 
in 1764 to the famous Literary Club, in imitation of the 
social meetings of the wits of the preceding age. No 
class of persons, perhaps, require them more than those 
who having little to enliven the solitary drudgery of the 
day, gladly fly to familiar converse in the evening with 
congenial miiids. Here the wise may mix with the wise, 
not indeed to preach up wisdom, but to forget the follies 
of others in displaying some of their own. Here also 



88 LIFE OF THE 

were performed, without venting the undue personal ani- 
mosity with unmeasured abuse of the criticism of our 
day, those offices to literature now undertaken by the 
leading reviews, in settling the claims of new books and 
authors. Literary enmities were then less general, per- 
haps, in consequence of men of jarring opinions and prin- 
ciples being brought more frequently together, and find- 
ing in the amenities of social intercourse something to 
soften the asperities of controversy. Authors, at present, 
associate more with the world and less with each other ; 
but it may be doubted whether they or the public have 
gained by the exchange. 

Among those of the club whom Mr. Burke much es 
teemed, and whose genius and foibles were alternately 
sources of admiration and amusement, was Goldsmith. 
They had entered Trinity College within two months of 
each other ; the former, as related, in April, the latter in 
June, 1744 ; and though not then particularly acquainted, 
remembered each other afterwards as being known to 
possess talents, rather than for exerting them. Occa- 
sional meetings at Dodsley's renewed the acquaintance, 
about 1758 ; and in the Annual Register for the following 
year, his Inquiry into the Present State of Polite Learn- 
ing in Europe^ is noticed with approbation, as were all 
his subsequent writings. 

Barring a little vanity, and a litde jealousy, which how- 
ever from the manner they were shoun excited rather 
laughter than anger, it was difficult to know Goldsmith 
without liking him, even if the warm regards of Burke, 
Johnson, and Reynolds were not alone a sufficient stamp 
of the sterling value of any man. Humane in disposition, 
generous to imprudence, careless of his own interests, a 
chaste and elegant writer, who advocated the interests of 
religion and morals, and uho combined with his exhorta- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 89 

tioiis as much of practical benevolence as falls to the lot 
of most men, he was worthy of such friends ; at once a 
rival of their fame and of their virtues. An author by 
profession, he was characterised by the imprudences often 
attendant upon |:(enlus. He thought not of the morro.v ; 
the " heaviest of metals" was so light in his estimation as 
to be carelessly parted with, though laboriously earned. 
He and poverty had been s;> long acquainted, that even 
when an opportunity offered for casting her off by the 
success of his pen, they knew not how to separate. He 
lived too much in pecuniary difficulties, and he died so. 
During the term of his literary life, which comprised 
no more than 16 years, he wrote much and always well, 
but chiefly of that class of productions intended rather as 
sacrifices to necessity than to inclination. There is 
enough indeed for fame, but much less than for our na- 
tional glory and individual pleasure, every reader of taste 
will wish. His plays are good ; his poems, novel, and 
essays, admirable : his histories, as far they go, infinitely 
superior to any others of the same description. Some 
persons, on account of the small number of his original 
works, have been inclined to attribute to him poverty of 
genius, forgetting the shortness of his career ; in fact, no 
writer, of the age displayed more fertility and variety on 
any subject to which he chose to apply the powers of his 
mind. And it should also be remembered that he had 
constantly to write for present bread before he could think 
of contingent reputation ; for, alas ! of what use are the 
brains u hen not backed by the belly ! He died too at 
46 ; an age at which Johnson was little more than begin- 
ning to become known to the public, and after which that 
great writer completed several of those works which ren- 
der him the pride of our nation. Had poor Goldsmith 
lived to attain an equally venerable term of years, there is 
M 



90 LIFE OF THE 

I JO doubt, both from his necessities and thirst ibr distinc- 
tion, that the national hterature would be enriched much 
more than it is, by the labours of his pen. 



CHAPTER IV. 

Appointed Private Secretary to the Marquis ofJUocking- 
ham — Success in Parliament — Gregories — Pamphlet 
in Reply to Mr. Grenville — Junius — Letters to Barry. 

The moment at length arrived when Mr. Burke gained 
that opening into public life, which nature and the train 
of his studies had so eminently qualified him to fill. 

Mr. George Grenville's Administration had become 
unpopular by the proceedings against Mr. Wilkes, by 
the means resorted to for increasing the revenue, and the 
supposed secret influence of Lord Bute, when the omis- 
sion of the Princess Dowager of Wales's name in the 
Regency Bill then framed on the first paroxysm of that 
malady which subsequently so much afflicted the king, 
threw it out, as Mr.. Burke, in the letter already quoted, 
had clearly predicted two months before. Mr. Pitt was 
then applied to in .vain ; that imperious, though able mi- 
nister, scarcely permitting his Majesty to have a voice in 
the formation of his own councils. The Duke of Cum- 
berland, esteemed for good sense and popular deport- 
ment, now undertook the formation of a ministry ; and, 
by his express command, and through him the direct 
desire of the King, a division of the Whigs entered into 
office under the Marquis of Rockingham. 

The body, among whom this nobleman now took the 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 9i 

lead, though comprising the chief of the aristocracy of 
the country, presented at this moment, and for several 
years afterward, an unstable and heterogeneous composi- 
tion. It was split into as many sections as a marching 
regiment on the parade ; but having no other principle of 
a military body, exhibited only the irregular energy, when 
it showed any energy at all, of an undisciplined mob ; a 
mass of moral quicksilver, without any fixed point of ad- 
hesion ; the cuttings and parings of all opinions, jumbled 
into a crude, vacillating, unintelligible whiggism ; most 
of the members, in fact, a kind of neutral -ground men, so 
wavering, so undecided, so uncertain in their support, as 
almost to justify the wish of Mr. Burke, that, " he hoped 
to God the race was extinct." 

The Marquis, the Duke of Newcastle, and their 
friends, forming the main body, deemed themselves 
sound Whigs ; the Duke of Bedford professed to be a 
Whig ; the Duke of Grafton called himself a Whig ; 
Mr. George Grenville thought himself a Whig ; and 
Mr. Pitt, if he hung aloof from the name of Whig, 
was so near to it in substance, that none but himself could 
distinguish the difference. Each of these had various 
shades of opinion, and some of their followers, as it 
proved, no opinions at all; while several, with Charles 
Townshend, seemed so eager for place, or unsteady in 
principle, as to be ready, upon the summons, to adopt or 
surrender any opinions whatever. Statesmen out of office 
are often in the unlucky predicament of being unable to 
explain, to the satisfaction of the people, their hair's 
breadth differences of sentiment with those who are in ; 
and when they happen to succeed, do not always get as 
much credit as they expect for utility, novelty, or sin- 
cerity, in their views. 

Lord Rockingham, doomed to be a leader of short- 



9» LIFE OF THE 

lived ddministrations, commanded general respect for the 
qualities of his heart and manners. He was not a great 
man, only perhaps because he already enjoyed the chief 
of the fruits of political greatness- — almost the highest 
rank and the amplest fortune. But were there an order 
of statesmen set apart from the general class, distinguish- 
ed for clear views, unwavering integrity, for a sound un- 
derstanding and an upright mind, who aimed at no bril- 
liancy, and were superior to all duplicity or trick, even to 
promote a favourite purpose, he would have stood at the 
head of the list. His knowledge and acquirements were 
all substantial. He had much for use, though but litde 
for display. His rank in life affording an enlarged view 
of the political horizon, he observed keenly, and expressed 
himself in public, on most occasions, wisely and tempe- 
rately. Never touching on the extremes of timidity or 
rashness, he possessed the useful art of knowing exactly 
how far to go, on party occasions, and where to stop. 
Whoever had him for an opponent had an honourable 
one, whom, if he could not convince he could scarcely 
disesteem ; and as a minister, none could have more 
unequivocally at heart the good of his country. 

Through the recommendation of several friends, par- 
ticularly Mr. Fitzherbert, Mr. Burke received the ap- 
pointment of private secretary to this nobleman, July 17, 
1765, just a week after the latter had been nominated to 
the head of the Treasury. " The British dominions," 
says a writer who knew most of the political characters of 
the time, " did not furnish a more able and fit person for 
that important and confidential situation ; — the only man 
since the days of Cicero who has united the talents of 
speaking and writing with irresistible force and elegance." 

By those w ho knew him intimately he was undoubt- 
edly deemed a great acquisition to the Ministry ; he, how- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 93 

ever, had not the same high opinion of his situation, 
having afterwards said, that of all the members of the 
party, he had the least sanguine hopes of it as a road to 
power. 

The appointment had been scarcely gained, when mis- 
conception or enmity threatened to fling him back once 
more to a private station. No sooner was it known to 
the Duke of Newcastle, who had accepted the seals, 
than he waited upon the Marquis, over whom he had 
some influence, and told him that he had unwarily taken 
into his service a man of dangerous principles, a Papist, 
and a Jacobite. The statement was immediately com- 
municated, in some alarm, to the accused. The latter 
at once admitted that several of his connexions were 
Catholics, but disclaimed that persuasion for himself and 
all the members of his own family, as well as every other 
part of the charge; and further, that his education and 
conduct while at Trinity College, and the tenor of his life 
after quitting it, were known to several mutual acquain- 
tance v\ho were at hand, and might be referred to, to 
disprove the calumny. 

The Marquis saw so much frankness in the explaha= 
tion, that he readily declared himself satisfied, but not 
so his independent secretary. He said it was impossible 
they could longer continue in confidential communication; 
for that the impression his Lordship had received would 
imperceptibly produce reserve and suspicion, embarrass- 
ing to public business, and so unpleasant to the subject 
of vhem, that nothing on earth should induce him to re- 
main in such a situation. 

Struck with this further instance of openness and spi- 
rit, the Marquis instantly assured him, that so far from 
any bad impression remaining on his mind, his manly 
conduct had obliterated every scruple, and that if for 



9'Ij life of the 

nothing but what had occurred on that occasion, iic 
should ever esteem and place in him the fullest confi- 
dence, — a promise which he faithfully performed. *' Nei- 
ther," adds Lord Charlemont, the relator of the anecdote, 
and who personally knew the circumstances, " had he at 
any time, or his friends after his death, the least reason 
to repent of that confidence; Burke having ever acted 
toward him with the most inviolate faith and affection, 
and towards his surviving friends with a constant and 
disinterested fidelity, which was proof against his own 
indigent circumstances, and the magnificent offers of 
those in power." 

By an arrangement with Lord Verney he came imme- 
diately into Parliament as Member for Wendover in 
Buckinghamshire, his Lordship, in return, being Gazetted 
a Privy-Councillor; and it may be remarked, that though 
the principal appointments under the ministry, and among 
others that of the private secretaries, are mentioned in 
the Annual Register of the year, his own name seems 
studiously omitted. William Bourke soon afterwards 
became under secretary of state to General Conway and 
Member for Bedwin in Wiltshire; sitting for the latter 
until the general election in 1774. 

Seldom perhaps did a ministry succeed to office under 
more discouraging circumstances than that under the 
Marquis of Rockingham. Though of unobjectionable 
reputation, several of the members were young in office; 
they were scarcely popular, from being supposed to stand 
in the way of Mr. Pitt ; they were not favourites at Court, 
on account of holding some principles at variance with 
those who were, perhaps, invidiously, called the interior 
cabinet, or King's friends; neither were they sufficiently 
united among themselves, either from previous concert or 
personal attachments, particularly after the death of the 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. Q5 

Duke of Cumberland, who expired suddenly at a meet- 
ing held to arrange some of the business of the session. 

In America, the discontents were become truly alarm- 
ing, in consequence of the Stamp Act passed by Mr- 
George Grenville the preceding February, after being- 
opposed only by a minority of forty in the House of 
Commons, and without either debate, division, or pro- 
test, in the Lords. 

At home, the manufacturers and merchants were in- 
censed at restrictions which threatened to destroy their 
trade. The country gentlemen of England wanted a 
productive revenue pouring into the English Exchequer, 
to relieve themselves from the burdens arising from the 
late war; and the colonies insisted that such revenue thev 
could not, and would not, afford. One strong and popu- 
lar party in Parliament declared it treason to the princi- 
ples of the Constitution to tax America without her own 
consent. Another, stronger in numbers and in influence, 
declared it equally treason to the Crown and Legislature 
to surrender the right of taxation; and this eventually 
seemed to be the prevailing sentiment in the country. 

With these irreconcileable interests and opinions to 
contend, the session opened for business on the 14th Jan- 
uary, 1766, when Mr. Burke seized the first opportunity 
of taking an active part in the discussion concerning 
America. The details are not otherwise known than 
from a few notes taken by Lord Charlemont. Mr. Pitt, 
who professed to have no specific objection to the Mi- 
nistry, though he would not give them his confidence, 
immediately followed Mr. Burke in the debate, and com- 
plimented him by observing, " that the young member 
had proved a very able advocate ; he had himself intended 
to enter at length into the details, but he had been anti- 
cipated with so much ingenuity and eloquence, that there 



96 LIFE OF THE 

was little left for him to say ; he congratulated him on 
his success, and his friends on the value of the acquisi- 
tion they had made." Many of the acquaintance of Mr. 
Burke were in the gallery purposely to witness the first 
display of his powers, one of whom was Mr. Murphy; 
and they all, on his quitting the house, crowded round 
him expressing the greatest pleasure at the result, the 
praise of Mr. Pitt being of itself, in the general opinion, 
a passport to fame. After this he spoke frequently and 
at length, and again received some unusual compliments, 
the highest estimate being formed of his powers as a 
speaker. 

Richard Burke, writing to Barry the painter, says, llth 
February, a month after the opening of the session, 
" Your friend (Edmund Burke) has not only spoke, but 
he has spoke almost every day; as to how I shall leave 
you to guess, only saying that to a reputation not mean 
before, he has added more than the most sanguine of his 
friends could have imagined. He has gained prodigious 
applause from the public, and compliments of the most 
flattering kind from particulars : it will add to what I know 
you already feel on this occasion to be told, that amongst 
the latter was one from Mr, Pitt, who paid it to him in 
the house in the most obliging manner, and in the strong- 
est terms." 

A member of the club* who had treated him rudely 
on one occasion in consequence of being foiled in a lite- 
rary discussion, and had found it convenient to absent 
himself, from the coolness with which he was received 
by the other members, expressing some surprise at his 
elevation, Johnson as promptly as prophetically replied, 
'^ There is no wonder at all. We who know Mr. Burke 

* Sir John Hawkins. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 97 

know that he w'll be one of the first men in the country." 
Writing soon afterward to Mr. Langton, Johnson said, 
-' We have the loss of Burke's company since he has 
been engaged in public business, in which he has gained 
more reputation than perhaps any man at his first appear- 
ance ever gained before. He made two speeches in the 
House for repealing the Stamp Act, which were publicly 
commended by Mr. Pitt, and have filled the town with 
wonder;" adding in another passage the remarkable 
words, " Burke is a great man by nature, and is expected 
soon to attain civil greatness." William Bourke, writing 
in March of the same year, thus expresses himself, *' You 
have heard that his (Edmund's) success has exceeded 
our most sanguine hopes; all at once he has darted into 
fame; I think he is acknowledged one of the first men 
in the Commons ;" again, *' Ned (Edmund) is full of real 
business, intent upon doing solid good to his country, as 
much as if he was to receive twenty per cent, from the 
commerce of the whole empire, which he labours to im- 
prove and extend." 

The result of the deliberations of Ministry was to re- 
peal the Stamp Act as a matter of expediency, but to 
pass a declaratory bill asserting the legislative power, in 
all cases, of the mother country. These, if Mr. Burke 
did not advise, he had a considerable share in defending, 
against a strong opposition which he subsequently cha- 
racterised " as one of the ablest, and not the most scru- 
pulous that ever sat in the house." Neither of the par- 
ties of which it was composed was satisfied, because nei- 
ther of their principles were fully recognised. It may 
be doubted however whether a body of statesmen acting 
upon an enlarged system for the general interests of a 
great country, could have prudently done otherwise than 
they did. Wisdom is seldom to be found in extremes, 
N 



98 LIFE OF THE 

They took a middle course between the violence of Mr. 
Pitt and Mr. Grenville, who, it must be confessed, gave 
vent to much wild matter, not very consistent with po- 
litical discretion, the one about almost perfect freedom, 
the other on the duty of unlimited submission. The 
phrase which Mr. Burke had applied to the former be- 
fore he had the slightest idea of being connected with 
administration, of " talking fustian," might now be ap- 
pled equally to him, and to his brother in-law. 

Both laws ultimately passed, though the Ministry 
never recovered the shock they occasioned ; even the 
members belonging to the Household voting with Oppo- 
sition. The merchants, however, were pleased ; the dis- 
contents in America sensibly subsided, and might not 
have been renewed bi t for what was termed the exter- 
nal taxation plan of Mr. Charles Townshend, adopted 
the succeeding year. 

Among other popular measures, a resolution passed 
the Commons against general warrants; which, in the 
hope of other favours from his friend the Duke of Graf- 
ton, then a member of Administration, drew from exile 
the notorious Mr. Wilkes. He appeared privately in 
London early in May, 1766, accompanied from Paris by 
Mr. Laughlan Macleane, an old acquaintance of Burke, 
and determined, as he said, either to make his fortune 
from the fears of the government or to annoy it. 

The Marquis, however, would not see him. Mr- 
Burke, accompanied by Mr. Fitzherbert, w as sent as his 
deputy, when, after five different interviews, his modest 
demands to compensate for his sufferings, — viz. a free 
pardon, a sum of money, a pension of 1500/. per annum 
on the Irish establishment, or equivalents, were peremp- 
torily rejected, with a recommendation to leave the coun- 
try. The negociation, however, was conducted with 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 99 

such address and temper by the secretary, that, after a 
douceur of three or four hundred pounds, collected from 
the private purses of Ministry, this pattern of morality 
and suffering patriotism retraced his steps to the French 
capital. 

Early in June Parliament was prorogued. Toward 
the end of the month negociations were on foot for a 
change of ministry, accelerated by the manoeuvres of 
Lord Chancellor Northington, who, to discredit them in 
every way, sent back the commercial treaty with Russia, 
effected by Sir George Macartney after great difficulty, 
and subsequently admitted to be a very advantageous 
one, three times for revision upon very trifling pretexts. 
Of this William Bourke wrote an account to Sir George^ 
who, through this channel, and also from his young 
friend Charles Fox, then about to quit Oxford, was 
much pleased to hear his address and skill in the literary 
compositions connected with the subject highly eulogiz- 
ed by Edmund Burke. 

On the 30th of July, the Administration quitted office, 
without pension, sinecure, or reversion to any of its mem- 
bers, His Majesty to the last being extremely complaisant 
and even kind to their leader ; no cause was assigned 
for the turn out, no political misdeeds attributed to them, 
except a supposition that they had delayed making a pro- 
vision for the younger brothers of the King. The Duke 
of Grafton had relinquished his post in Ma}'. He also 
had no fault to find with his colleagues, but that they 
wanted strength, which he said could only be acquired 
by a junction with Mr. Pitt. To that popular statesman, 
therefore, the details of the new arrangements were com- 
mitted, by an express intimation to that effect from His 
Majesty, who, in a manner, surrendered at discretion, by 
stating that " he had no terms to propose.'' 



100 LIFE OF THE 

The difficulties which occurred in forming the new 
Ministry are sufficiently known to every reader of his- 
tory. Having disgusted his relation and political associ- 
ate Lord Temple, the Bedford, the Rockingham, and 
every other party, Mr. Pitt now created Earl of Chatham, 
seemed likely to have the cabinet to himself. Driven at 
length to his utmost shifts, by dint of cutting out rever- 
sions and pensions (forming a contrast to the system of 
his predecessors,) by harsh dismissals of some from of- 
fice without known cause, by as unexpected offers to 
others who would have nothing to do with him, showing 
altogether a most perturbed state of mind, he assembled 
tpgether a most motley group of stragglers, of which, 
seven years afterwards, Mr. Burke drew the following 
memorable and not over-charged portrait. — 
A'' " He puts together a piece of joinery so crossly in- 
dented and whimsically dove-tailed ; a cabinet so vari- 
ously inlaid ; such a piece of diversified Mosaic ; such a 
tesselated pavement without cement ; here a bit of black 
stone, and there a ' bit of w hite ; patriots and courtiers ; 
King's friends and Republicans ; Whigs and Tories ; 
treacherous friends and open enemies ; that it was indeed 
a very curious show ; but utterly unsafe to touch and 
unsure to stand on. The colleagues whom he had as- 
sorted at the same board stared at each other and were 
obliged to ask — Sir, yourname? — Sir, you have the ad- 
vantage of me — Mr. Such-a-one — I beg a thousand par- 
dons — I venture to say it did so happen that persons had 
a single office divided between them who had never 
spoke to each other in their lives." 

Upon such a slippery pedestal did diis eminent man 
expect to exalt himself to the gaze of the multitude, the 
chief, almost the only, character in his own picture. 
Either dictator, or nothing, had been for some years 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 101 

his motto ; success and popular applause had in some 
measure spoiled him ; he dreamt not of meeting with a 
superior ; he could not brook the idea of having even 
an equal in office, for he had continually interfered in the 
details of theofficial business of others, when interference 
was neither delicate nor called for ; he had hitherto 
loftily upheld the supremacy of his own opinions over 
those of all the rest of the cabinet put together ; he would 
not condescend to conciliate or persuade any one, yet 
expected to govern all ; though beyond doubt the most 
successful and popular minister which Great Britain 
ever had, his arrogance had repelled and disgusted 
nearly as many friends as his abilities or eloquence had 
ever drawn around him. 

This disposition unhappily led him to care little for 
men or measures, except such as came out under his 
especial protection ; and it is difficult for an attentive 
reader of the history of this period not to believe, that 
to this overweening confidence in himself, and impatience 
of any thing like equality of talents or power in others, 
the good of his country was more than once sacrificed. 
A junction with the Rockingham party while in office, 
would have assured present harmony with America ; 
and their united good sense, penetration, and the recol- 
lection of Sir Robert Walpole's refusal to tax that coun- 
try, might have eventually warded off that contest alto- 
gether. The Marquis, it seems, made the attempt to 
win him more than once, but found the truth of Bubb 
Doddington's assertion, that he \vould be " an impracti- 
cable colleague.'' His own scheme of a ministry was ut- 
terly hopeless. The former lofty dictator submitted to 
be neglected by the men of his own making. He sunk 
in a few months to the degree of a subaltern in the corps 
which he had embodied and naturally expected to com- 



102 LIFE OP THE 

inand ; measures being adopted with regard to America, 
(the duties on tea, paper, glass, and painters' colours,) in 
the very teeth of his opinions and declarations; exempli- 
fying the truth of another remark of the eloquent advo- 
cate of the Rockingham party ; *' When he had exe- 
cuted his plan, he had not an inch of ground to stand 
upon. When he had accomplished his scheme of ad- 
ministration, he was no longer minister." 

Mr. Burke, desirous to let the public know as much 
as he knew himself of the cause of the dismission of his 
friends, drew up in a few hours an original species of 
party manifesto, " A short Account of a late short Ad- 
ministration ;*' it blamed no person, made no lamenta- 
tions, used no arguments, drew no direct inferences ; but, 
simply stating in as few lines as possible the public mea- 
sures of the preceding twelve months, left the reader to 
draw his own conclusions. This of course is in favour 
of the party, half concealing the character of a dexterous 
partizan, under that of a calm observer. 

A sharper skit upon Lord Chatham and his colleagues, 
in the Public Advertiser, followed in a few days, in the 
form of a comment on the preceding, under the signa- 
ture of Whittington, a tallow-chandler in Cateaton Street. 
It possesses keen irony and humour, was much read and 
talked of at the time, and has been always attributed to 
the same pen. These appear in the Annual Register 
for 1766. Another humorous piece given to him is 
*' Ship News for 1765 ;" in these the allusions to the 
chief political characters of the day are happily hit oif, 
and that of Charles Townshend particularly is, in brief, 
what he afterwards said of him more in detail. 

Ten days only elapsed after the retirement of his 
friends, before he set out for his native country. The 
motives to this retreat, though " free to choose another 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 103 

connexion as any man in the country," do honour to his 
consistency. " To put himself," as he says, *' out of 
the way of the negociations which were then carrying on 
very eagerly and through many channels with the Earl 
of Chatham, he went to Ireland very soon after the 
change of Ministry, and did not return until the meeting 
of Parliament. He was at that time free from any thing 
that looked like an engagement. He was further free at 
the desire of his friends ; for the very day of his return, 
the Marquis of Rockingham wished him to accept an 
employment under the new system. He believes he 
might have had such a situation ; but again he cheer- 
fully took his fate with the party." 

The office which he might have had, and which was 
indirectly offered, was that of a lord of trade; in his situ- 
ation this disregard of consequence, of rank, and emolu- 
ment, from a nice sense of honour even against the ad- 
vice of his patron, as it was a rare sacrifice, ought to be 
considered a great one. 

Mrs. Burke, his son, and brother, were with him in 
this excursion, which continued three months, visiting 
the little property left by his elder brother, who, as al- 
ready stated, died in April the preceding year, Cork, 
Limerick, and some other places in the southern division 
of that kingdom, not omitting a short visit, as usual, to 
his Ballitore friends. A portion of his time was devoted 
to the antiquities and native language. Of the latter he 
knew enough to make some trifling translations, and 
about five years afterwards communicated to his old col 
lege acquaintance. Dr. Leland, who was then writing the 
History of Ireland, two volumes of old Irish manuscripts, 
containing several of the ancient written laws of that 
country in a very early idiom of the language, which he 
had discovered in London, 



101 LIFE OF TKL 

The condition of the Catholics, then suffering under 
the extreme oppression of the penal laws, and the damp 
necessarily thrown by them upon the prosperity of the 
country, drew much of his attention ; it was in fact, as 
has been before hinted, a subject of early meditation; in 
1761, and in 1764, it gave rise to frequent amicable dis- 
cussions between him and Sir Hercules Langrishe, which, 
after a lapse of thirty years, were renewed with more ad- 
vantage to the subject. The age was not then ripe for 
much liberality of religious feeling; he therefore prudendy 
abstained from obtruding his opinions on the public until 
a more favourable opportunity offered ; but the materials 
for a volume on the Popery Laws, an outline of which 
appears in his works, were at this time partially arranged. 

The session commencing October, 1766, saw the 
Rockingham connexion nearly quiescent; a resolution 
that the land tax be four shillin?;s in the pound, another 
for restraining the dividends of the East India Company, 
being carried against the Chancellor of the Exchequer; 
and with other evident symptoms of disunion in the Mi- 
nistry, rendering an assault from without scarcely ne- 
cessary. 

The fame of Mr. Burke, however, as far as he thought 
it prudent to exert himself, continued to rise. William 
Bourke, writing about this time, says, " Our friend E. B. 
has acted all along with so unwearied a worthiness, that 
the world does him the justice to believe that in his 
public conduct he has no one view but the public good.'^ 

Lord Charlemont thus writes to Mr. Flood, April 9, 
1767, " I some time ago sent to Leland an account of 
our friend Burke's unparallelled success, which I suppose 
he communicated to you. His character daily rises, and 
Barre is totally eclipsed by him; his praise is universalj 
and even the Opposition, who own his superior talents, 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 105 

can find nothing to say against him, but that he is an 
impudent fellow. Yesterday a bill was brought into 
the Commons to exclude the importation of Irish wool 
from certain ports in England, when Burke supported the 
cause of Ireland in a most masterly manner, and the bill 
was rejected." 

The phrase " impudent fellow,'' though of course used 
here in a jocular sense, was in fact grounded upon a jea- 
lousy very general in the House of Commons, then more 
than at present, and which operated against Mr. Burke 
for many years, both among those who opposed him, and 
among those who stood in the same ranks with himself, 
of deeming it a species of presumption in men without 
"parliamentary weight to assume the lead. He was not 
merely new to the House, but in a manner new to the 
country, and being without the essential adjuncts of com» 
manding wealth or connexion, was almost regarded in 
the light of one who usurps a station he has no proper 
claim to. It was a source of no ordinary wonder to all, 
to see such a man, not generally familiar to the political 
world, and without much known practice in public busi- 
ness, start at once to the highest eminence in that ardu- 
ous pursuit ; it was annoying to many to see their conse- 
quence overshadowed, their abilities, by the force of con- 
trast, tacitly lessened, and an utter stranger bound at ones 
over their heads from the retirement of private life to the 
imposing station of a first rate orator and accomplished 
statesman. 

This success, on considering his extraordinary capa- 
city and acquirements, was not, however, so inexplicable 
as it seemed. Scarcely any one, perhaps none, who 
ever entered the House of Commons, had laboured so 
diligently to qualify himself for the duties of the office, or 
O 



106 LIFK OF THE 

united with diligence, so much genius and power to profit 
by his labours. His general knowledge was various, and 
of such ready application, that in argument or in illus- 
tration, his resources appeared boundless. He had care- 
fully studied the ancients, and stored up what they knew; 
from the moderns he had drawn improved principles of 
law, morals, politics, and science. To these he could 
add, when he thought proper, the logic and metaphysics 
of the schools, with the more popular acquirements of 
poetrv, history, criticism, and the fine arts; in powers of 
imagination no orator of any age has approached him; in 
prompt command of words, and in vigour of language, 
very few; in felicity, and, when he pleased, elegance of 
diction when he seized the pen, no writer of modern 
times. He had, in fact, enriched a soil naturally good 
by such assiduous culture, that it often threatened, and 
sometimes did bring forth weeds along with the choicest 
products. All this was accomplished, not in the quiet of 
affluence, but in the bustle of struggling for an adequate 
provision in life. " I was not," said he, in his forcible 
manner, " swaddled, rocked, and dandled into a legisla- 
tor. JVitor in adversum is the motto for a man like me." 
He was arrived, too, at the age of 36 — a time when 
this multifarious knowledge was digested and me- 
thodised ; when the useful had been winnowed from the 
chaff; when the mind of a man, if ever worth any thing, 
is capable of the most vigorous exerdon. It w?.s an age, 
however, at which, as experience has proved, few men, 
(perhaps there is not another instance) who enter Parlia- 
ment for the first time, are destined to attain the very 
highest degree of eminence, either as orators or men of 
business. This of itself would distinguish him as an 
uncommon man. If the difficulty ever occurred to him. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 107 

it was no sooner thought of than conquered, by an appli- 
cation that knew no intermission, and a zeal that no ob- 
stacle could subdue. 

Respectable mediocrity as a speaker was as much per- 
haps as his friends, however high their previous opinion, 
could reasonably anticipate for him. To be distinguished 
there, is the lot of few ; to become great is one of those 
chances of life barely within the limits of possibility. 
Neither is it likely that he knew the extent of his own en- 
ergies. It is occasion only that ehcits them from most 
men; and these indeed, were always at hand in the nu- 
merous and extraordinary occurrences of ihe late reign. 

Before the prorogation in July, an offer is said to have 
been made him by the Duke of Grafton of a seat at the 
Treasury board, but clogged with stipulations to which 
he refused to accede. A hint of this seems to be dropped 
by himself in a letter to Barry. 

*' The measures since pursued, both with regard to 
men and things, have been so additionally disagreeable, 
that I did not think myself free to accept any thing under 
this Administration." A negociation for the main body 
of the Rockingham party to join the Ministry soon fol- 
lowed, but came to nothing, " because,-' says he, in ano- 
ther letter, " it was not found practicable with honour to 
undertake a task like that, until people understood one 
another a little better, and can be got to a litde cooler 
temper, and a little more fair dealing." 

On the opening of the session, 24th November, 1767, 
he broke ground against the Ministry in an impressive 
speech, condemning their general conduct, and happily 
ridiculing General Conway's lamentations for the recent 
death of Charles Townshend, and the loss of his pro- 
jected plans for the public good ; which, though none of 
his colleagues knew what they were, were rather absurd- 



108 LIFE OF THE 

Jy stated as likely to remove the difficulties of the coun- 
try. This step indicated irreconciieable differences of 
opinion, and in fact some resentment between the Minis- 
try and the Rockingham party ; three meetings to effect 
a union between them having taken place, but in vain ; 
and then Lord Chatham had resorted to what was con- 
sidered unfair means (some attribute them to the Duke 
of Grafton,) to separate the friends of the ]VL»rquis from 
those of the Duke of Newcastle. The Bedford party 
proved more compliant to his wishes ; in a fortnight af- 
terwards they coalesced with those in power, forming 
what was called the Grafton Administration. The Nul- 
lum Tempus Bill, the distresses produced by the high 
price of provisions, the restraining act relative to the India 
Conijjany, and a few other minor topics, occupied Mr. 
Burke the first part of the session. 

In March, 1768, Parliament was dissolved, the new 
one meeting in May, when he was again returned for 
Wendover. About the same time he purchased, for 
above 20,000/., a small estate and agreeable residence, 
since burnt down, named Gregories, near Beaconsfield, 
in Buckinghamshire ; the expense being increased by 
being obliged, much against his inclination, to take the 
seller's collection of pictures and marbles, as appears by 
the following letter to Barry : 

" Gregories, July 19, 1768. 
" My dear Barry, 
" My silence has been long and blameable, I confess 
it; I am really sorry for it, but I trust you will forgive 
us soine inaccuracies in point of attention, when you are 
convinced we have none in j)oint of real substantial friend- 
ship. Indeed none can value you more, or wish you 
better, than all the persons who compose this family. On 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 109 

the close of the last Parhament, I had thoughts, amount- 
ing almost to a •settled resolutiotj, of passing this summer 
in Italy, and had even made some dispositions towards 
my journey. The pleasure and instruction I proposed 
to myself from your company, were not the slightest ob- 
jects of my tour, for which reason I wrote the sl»ort note, 
wishing to fix you at Rome. But I have been diverted 
another way. We have purchased a pretty house and 
estate, the adjusting of which has kept me in England 
this summer. With the house I was obliged to tak^ the 
seller's collection of pictures and marbles. He was a 
considerable collector ; and though I by this means went 
to an expense I would not otherwise have incurred, yet 
I have got some pieces, both of painting and sculpture, 
which you will not dislike. We are in Buckinghamshire, 
24 miles from London, and in a very pleasant county. 
So much for our situation. In other particulars we are, 
thank God, well as to health, and politically just on the 
same ground, out of employment, but with a quiet con- 
science and a pure reputation. Will. (Bourke) and I are 
both chosen into this new Parliament. I think myself 
very unlucky in having lost one of your letters ; they are 
all worth keeping. I do not know any that have more 
curious observations and better expressed. Your last 
observations on the improved architecture of the moderns, 
and its inferiority to the ancients, is truly curious, and I 
believe as just as it is ingenious. lam proud to have 
found it confirm some notions I have had myself on the 
same subject. 

" As to the pictures which you are so good to think of 
for us, you will regulate them just as >ou please. We 
cannot say any thing precise as to sizes, because we have 
left the house in Queen Anne-street, v\here the doctor 
(Nugent) now lives, and have had only a temporary resi- 



110 LIFE OP THE 

dence in town, taken by ihe winter. As to this house, 
it is hung from top to bottom with pictures ; and we have 
not yet determined which ought to be displaced. So, 
as I said before, follow your own ideas ; but by no means 
lose an opportunity of disposing of a picture which may 
make you friends or money, on our account. 

*' We hope to have some of your work when you come 
home. I am glad of Hamilton's opinion. — It cannot fail 
of being serviceable to you in some way or other. In the 
mean time I must press it upon you to live on the best 
terms with the people you are with, even dealers and the 
like ; for it will not follow, that because men want some 
virtues, that they want all. Their society will be some 
relief to you, and their intercourse of some advantage, if 
it were no more than a dispelling of the unsociable hu- 
mours contracted in solitude, which will, in the end, not 
fail of corrupting the understanding as well as the man- 
ners, and of utterly disqualifying a man for the satisfac- 
tions and duties of life. Men must be taken as they are, 
and we neither make them nor ourselves better either by 
flying from or quarrelling with them ; and Rome, and 
the trade of Virtu, are not the only places and professions 
in which many little practices ought to be overlooked in 
others, though they should be carefully avoided by our- 
selves. 

" I remember you wrote to me with a great deal of 
sense, and much honest indignation, on the subject of 
some quackish pretences to secrets in the art, such as 
Magilphs, and the like. We had much of the same 
stuff here. It is indeed ridiculous to the last degree to 
imagine that excellence is to be attained by any mechani- 
cal contrivances whatsoever. But still the overvaluing 
of foolish or interested people ought not to induce us 
wholly to reject what may be subordinately useful. Every 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. Ill 

thing is worth a trial ; and much of the business of col- 
ouring, belonging to a sort of natural history, it is rather 
worth while to make experiments, as many as one can. 

" Forgive my trivial observations. Your friends here, 
the Doctor, litde Dick (his son,) Mrs. Burke, all fre- 
quendy think of you. Mr. Reynolds and Barrett inquire 
for you very kindly. Indulge us with your letters as 
frequenUy as you can, and believe me, my dear Barry, 
with great truth and affection, your sincere friend and 
humble servant, 

" Edmund Burke. 

" Direct to me in Charles-street, St. James's- square.'' 

How the money was procured to effect the purchase 
mentioned in this letter, has given rise to many surmises 
and reports, owing to the utter unacquaintance with his 
family, early life, and pecuniary means, of every writer 
without exception, who has written respecting him. A 
considerable part undoubtedly was his own, the bequest 
of his father and elder brother ; the remainder was to 
have been raised upon mortgage, when the Marquis of 
Rockingham hearing of his intention, voluntarily offered 
the loan of the amount required to complete the purchase. 
It has been said that he even tendered a much larger 
sum, which the delicacy of Mr. Burke declined to re- 
ceive, accepting only what was absolutely necessary, and 
this upon condition of being repaid the first opportunity. 

Honourable as the transaction was to the friendship 
and delicacy of both, the ingenuity of party abuse has 
converted it into an attack upon the integrity of the per- 
son most obliged : yet, the Marquis was undoubtedly 
under obligations to him, both publicly, and for some at- 
tention paid to the business of his large estates in Ireland, 
when in that country two years before ; less disinterested 



lis LIFE OF THE 

men, indeed, would have settled the matter othenviss 
■ — the one by quartering his friend, the other by being 
quartered, on the public purse. To the honour of both 
a different course was pursued ; and admitting that the 
money was never reclaimed, it did not produce a third 
part of the annual income which the Whig party present- 
ed to Mr. Fox before quitting him in 1794. 

Several admirers of Mr. Barke have expressed their 
regret that he ever submitted to be patronised — that he 
did not rather seek the paironage of the public, and 
pass his life in what they call literary independence. This 
is sad drivelling. 

Patronage, as in the instance before us, is only a spee- 
dier means of accomplishing that which can either not be 
done at all, without assistance, or done only after encoun- 
tering many and serious difficulties. It is but smoothing 
the passage of genius to fame. No harm has ever ac- 
crued from it, but, on the contrary, much good ; and 
though a man of talents, without such assistance, may 
do much, yet with it he is likely to do better and to do 
more. Why it should not be accepted, when no degra- 
dation is stipulated, and no principle abandoned, it is dif- 
ficult for any but the conceited or the querulous to con- 
ceive : he who may have worked his own way to the 
gate of the temple of fame, shows more of pride than of 
wisdom to reject the hand held out to introduce him 
with greater honours to the interi r. 

Private patronage often precedes desert ; public patron- 
age only follows it. The former may sometimes arise 
from vanity, or the affectation of superior discernment, 
but at any rate it is kind, it is considerate, and will often 
do more for its object than the noisy and fleeting appro- 
bation of the multitude. 

The patronage of the public is a high-sounding word. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. HB 

which in truth means nothing. The public never, or al- 
most never, patronised any one, without first having, in 
the language of commerce, value received ; its counte- 
nance is never gratuitous ; it must be purchased by pre- 
vious service, by excelling, by exhibiting superior capa- 
city and power in some particular way, whether in mat- 
ters of utility, instruction, or delight, before the reward 
is ever given. Benefits thus paid for before-hand by ge- 
nius, cannot be called patronage. 

As to the literary independence spoken of, it is more 
difficult to be defined, except it be the liberty to labour 
much and to enjoy little, to be talked of but not revvarded^ 
to glare in the world by the brilliancy of your writings, 
and to die possibly in personal obscurity and poverty. 
Even Johnson might have written his fingers off without 
being the nearer to independence, had it not been for the 
kindness of Lord Bute, whose name for this alone, if for 
nothing else, ought to be respected by every lover of 
worth and talents. 

As to honours awarded to eminent authorship, such a 
thing, though common in every other country of Europe, 
was never heard of in England, till His present Majesty 
most graciously and hberally bestowed them upon a dis- 
tinguished poet, for merits purely literary. Remember- 
ing these circun stances, let us hear no more lamentations 
about Mr. Burke's deserting literature for politics. 

The aspect of affairs on the opening of the session, 
November 8th, 1768, seemed not a litde threatening. 
Remonstrances, petitions, and non-importation agree- 
ments, seconded by strong private representations to men 
of influence here, daily arrived from America, which, on 
the motion for the address, brought out some severe com- 
ments from Mr. B irke, on the conduct of Ministers to 
that country ; their passiveness in the invasion of Cor- 
P 



ll^fc LIFE OF THE 

sica, and on some other popular topics of the time- 
Another conspicuous and constitutional effort was on the 
injustice, sanctioned by a new bill of bringing Ameri- 
cans guilty of treason in their own country to England 
for trial. It is much to be regretted that no report of 
the speeches of this period is preserved. Mr. Burke's 
are chiefly known from contemporary verbal report, and 
from being marked in some books, as " masterly," " in- 
genious and able," " very eloquent and witty," and 
many similar phrases, but little or no detail is given, and 
this rather in the witty sallies than in the argument ; so 
that the fault of the reporter has been unjustly laid to the 
speaker. Lord Chatham at length resigned. With dif- 
ficulties thickening round the Ministry, an old and trou- 
blesome performer, scarcely less alarming to his friends 
than to his enemies, appeared upon the scene. This was 
Mr. Wilkes, again reduced to his last shilling, who, 
thriving by no other trade but patriotism, found it neces- 
sary tc invite persecution in order to extract money, and, 
suddenly appearing from Italy as candidate for London, 
and then for Middlesex, with an outlawry hanging over 
his head, unexpectedly gained the election. 

The vacillation of Government, the legal proceedings, 
riots, and general ferment which ensued, require no other 
notice than for the employment they gave to Mr. Burke 
and Mr. Grenville, the leaders of the two divisions of the 
Opposition, who, agreeing in this, had few other points 
of union. The question of the patriot's expulsion, so 
memorable in the history of the country, was carried, 
against the strenuous exertions of both, the 3d of Febru- 
ary, 1769. A motion for an inquiry into the affair in St. 
George's fields, by Mr. Burke was negatived by a g- eat 
majority; Mr. Wilke's affairs and America afforded him 
fruitful themes for every week of the session ; and, along 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 115 

with several other gentlemen of Buckinghamshire, he 
presented a petition to the King, at the levee, against the 
decision of the House of Commons. 

Toward the close of it, an argument on the taxation of 
the colonies occurred between him and Mr. Grenville, 
which evinced that the latter, with four years' experience 
had gained no increase of wisdom on the imprudence 
and impracticability of that measure. " He behaves,'* 
said Dr. Franklin, writing of Mr. G. shortly before this, 
" as if a little out of his head on the article of America, 
which he brings into every debate without rhyme or rea- 
son ; tiring every body, even his own friends, with ha- 
rangues about and against America." 

An appeal by Mr. Grenville to the country generally, 
through the medium of the press, shortly after this, 
brought the rival leaders more immediately before the 
public. It was in a pamphlet entided, " The Present 
State of the Nation," written either by himself, or by Mr. 
Knox, a former Secretary of his, under his eye, and 
which, vfithout formally mentioning names, was designed 
to praise his own and Lord Bute's measures, and censure 
those of Lord Rockingham. 

The reply of Mr. Burke, in " Observations" on the 
preceding, his first avowed political pamphlet, and little 
inferior to any that followed it, displayed the danger of 
attacking, at his own weapons, a writer so accomplished. 
He convicts his opponent of inconclusive reasoning, of 
inaccuracy in many parts of his subject, and of ignorance 
as to facts and details on the great principles of commerce 
and revenue, on which Mr. Grenville particularly plumed 
himself; altogether it gives us a strong impression of 
what a poor figure an active minister and debater in the 
House of Commons may make with his pen. A re- 
markable passage in Mr. Burke's reply on the thenfinan- 



116 LIFE OF THE 

cial condition of France, of \^ hich Mr. Grenville seemed 
to know little, illustrates what took place 20 years after- 
wards, and exhibits the length of view which his more 
gifted adversary applied to this as to most other subjects. 

" Under such extreme straitness and distraction, la- 
bours the whole body of their finances, so far does their 
charge outrun their supply in every particular, that no 
man, I believe, who has considered their affairs with any 
degree of attention or information, but must hourly look 
for some extraordinary convulsion in that whole system ; 
the effects of which on France y and even on all Europe^ it 
is difficult to conjectured 

About this time Junius broke forth, the champion of 
popular rights, with a lustre and power never excelled, 
and under a mask which time and the most prying curi- 
osity have been unable to penetrate. If circumstantial 
evidence have any weight, in any instance, it is difficult 
to believe from the documents some time ago published, 
that Sir Philip Francis was not the man. But from the first 
the credit was given to Mr. Burke ; and public opinion, 
after running the round of the chief men of the day, and 
scanning their powers, opinions, and conduct, has again and 
again reverted to him as the only one capable of writing 
those letters. All his private friends, and Dr. Johnson 
among the number, were of the same opinion, till assured 
to the contrary by his voluntary declaration ; even many 
years afterwards, a print shown in Dublin, of the author 
of Junius, exhibited his figure leaning on a volume in- 
scribed the Sublime and Beautiful. 

Internal evidence, as far as regards the style, is not to 
be looked for, where the aim was such profound conceal- 
ment. Nor in short compositions, such as these letters, 
laboriously written as they confessedly were, would it be 
difficult to adopt and sustain a different tone from that of 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 117 

a long work. They are, in fact, the best modes that 
could be devised for concealment ; there is an unity of 
design in a letter, which oftersi little inducement to di- 
verge from the point or topic with which it commences ; 
the mind also being unexhausted by long application, 
continues fresh, forcible, and condensed to the purpose in 
view, and these qualities of precision and force may be 
considered the chief characteristics of these compositions. 

It may be observed, that on all the subjects on which 
Junius dilates, by a specific and pointed attack, Burke 
and he agreed; while those on which they seem to differ, 
as the Rockingham politics, the measures of Mr. Gren- 
ville, and a few others, are gently touched ; just sufficient 
to show some apparent difference of opinion, without any 
formal censure ; — a plan just suited to ward off suspicion 
from an individual, and yet not lower his party in public 
esteem. Even the allusion to Burke himself, considerinsr 
there are few names mentioned w ith approbation, means 
little. *' I willingly accept of a sarcasm from Colonel 
Barre, or a simi]e from Mr. Burke.'' Such a slight, now 
that he was universally suspected as the author, might 
be politic, in order to divert attention from himself. If 
really meant as an attack, a more unhappy hit could not 
be made by any writer, who perfectly understood his own 
strength ; for some of the letters, and many of the leading 
and admired points in them, are little more than strings 
of sarcasms and similes. Divest him of these, and 
though still a clever writer, he is no longer Junius. 

A general belief has prevailed, and there seems no 
reason to doubt it, that this celebrated writer, whether 
Burke or not, was a native of Ireland. The style bears 
litde resemblance to that of any English author, but par- 
takes much of the wit, the irritability, the pride, the bit- 
terness of invective, the imagery, the almost morbid jeal- 



118 LIFE OF THE 

ousy and animosity, which marked some of the pohticai 
contentions of the sister country, especially those in her 
House of Commons. He had also, it appears, some sym- 
pathy for the grievances of that kingdom, when no Eng- 
lish politician threw away a thought upon her. Even the 
abuse of Scotland and Scotchmen, may have arisen from 
the same cause ; a feeling of rivalry between the nations 
having often prevailed, when pushing their fortune on the 
neutral ground of England. Smollett had assailed the 
Irish character in his works of fiction ; and Junius, per- 
haps, thought it but fair to pay off the Scotch with inter- 
est, in matters of fact ; — it was the only point on which 
Johnson and Junius agreed. 

Mr. Burke sj)ent the recess at Gregories, in superin- 
tending the repairs and alterations of his house ; and, in 
attention to rural business, proved as active a farmer as 
any in the country, being often in the fields in a morning 
as soon as his labourers. It became a luxury, he used 
to say, after the noise, heat, and drudgery of the House of 
Commons. In town he usually had a temporary resi- 
dence during the sitting of Parliament, some of which 
were in the Broad Sanctuary, Charles-street, Duke-street, 
37, Gerrard -street, and some others. Among his friends 
were some of the most distinguished men of rank in the 
country. At Mrs. Montagu's famous coteries, about 
that time in their zenith, he used occasionally to meet 
nearly all the literati of the three kingdoms, and the most 
remarkable characters in London. 

Amid these engagements, and the labours of politics, 
a more humble friend was not forgotten, either in pecu- 
niary assistance, or in letters containing the most friendly 
and enlightened advice. 

His protection of Barry has been already noticed. The 
moment his own means became extended, by being con- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 119 

nected with administration, he recommended him, se- 
conded by the advice oF Reynolds, to s^o to Italy for im- 
provement, and, with William Bourke, offered to the 
best of their power to maintain him while there. 

The painter set out in October, 1765, and remained 
abroad above five years. During the whole of this time 
he earned nothing for himself, and received no supplies 
from any other person than his two generous friends, who 
fulfilled their promise amid serious difficulties and claims 
of their own, in which William, in one of his letters, was 
obliged to confess, that " cash was not so plentiful as he 
could wish." A fact of this kind, so rarely imitated by 
the highest rank, or the greatest wealth, speaks more for 
the virtues of the heart than a volume of panegyric; it is, 
however, only one instance among many of the benevo- 
lence of Mr. Burke. 

Barry felt the weight of his obligations. Of Dr. Sleio-h, 
he said, " He first put me upon Mr. Burke, who has 
been, under God, all in all to me." Writing to the DoC" 
tor himself, he says, " To your goodness I owe Mr. 
Burke and his family, which, in one word, is owing you 
all that is essential to me." To Mr. Burke he writes, 
" 1 am your property." And again, '♦ you ought surely 
to be free with a man of your own making, who has 
found in you father, brother, friend, every thing." 

A constant correspondence with their protege was main- 
tained by the whole family, chiefly, however, through 
M-^illiam, as being less occupied in business; but occa- 
sionally with Edmund, who addresses him with the affec- 
tion of a brother, and whose remarks and admonitions 
are so fine in themselves, and display such an intimate 
acquaintance with the arts and with the world, couched 
in the most eloquent style, ''hat it would be a crime equally 
against his reputation, and against the enjoyment of the 



130 LIFE OF THE 

reader, not to .8:ive two or three of the principal, in addi- 
tion to the one already quoted. The first was written 
while the artist remained in Paris; the others when he 
was at Rome. 

" My dear Barry, 

" I hope your kindness and partiality to me will induce 
you to give the most favourable construction to my long 
silence. I assure you that disregard and inattention to 
you had not the smallest share in it. 1 love you and 
esteem you, as I always did ever since I knew you ; and 
I wish your welfare and your credit (which is the best 
gift of Providence in the way of fortune) as much as any 
man; and am much pleased with the step I hear you 
are taking to advance them. Mr. Macleane, your very 
good friend, tells me that you are preparing to set out for 
Italy. As to what regards you personally, I have only 
to advise, that you would not live in a poor or unequal 
manner, but plentifully, upon the best things, and as 
nearly as you can in the ordinary method of other people. 

" Singularity in diet is in general, I believe, unwhole- 
some: your friend the Doctor is in that way of thinking. 
I mention this, as Macleane tells me you have been ill, 
by ordering your diet on a plan of your own. I shall 
be happy in hearing that you are thoroughly recovered, 
and ready to proceed on your journey with alacrity and 
spirit. 

" With regard to your stud es, you know, my dear 
Barry, my opinion. I do not choose to lecture you to 
death; but to say all I can in a few words, it will not do 
for a man qualified like you to be a connoisseur and a 
sketcher. — You must be an artist; and this you cannot be 
but by drawing with the last degree of noble correctness. 
Until you can draw beauty with the last degree of truth 




RIGHT HON. £DMUND BURKE. 121 

and precision, you will not consider yourself possessed of 
that faculty. This power will not hinder you from pass- 
ing to the great style when you please ; if your character 
should, as I imagine it will, lead you to that style in pre- 
ference to the other. But no man can draw perfecdy 
that cannot draw beauty. My dear Barry, I repeat it 
again and asyain, leave off sketching. Whatever you do, 
finish it. Your letters are very kind in remembering us; 
and surely as to the criticisms of every kind, admirable. 
Reynolds likes them exceedingly. He conceives extra- 
ordinary hopes of you, and recommends, above all things, 
to you the continual study of the Capella Sustina^ in 
which are the greatest works of Michael Angelo, He 
says he will be mistaken, if that painter does not become 
your great favourite. Let me entreat that you will over- 
come that unfortunate delicacy that attends you, and that 
yon will go through a full course of anatomy with the 
knife in your hand. You will never be able thoroughly 
to supply the omission of this by any other method. 

" The public exhibition is, I think, much the best that 
we have had. West has two pieces, which would give 
you great hopes of him : I confess, some time ago, 1 had 
not any that were very sanguine; but in these he has 
really done considerable things, Barrett inquires very 
kindly for you — he makes a very good figure in this 
exhibition." 

"My dear Barry, 
" I am greatly in arrear to you on account of corres- 
pondence; but not,] assure you, on account of regard, 
esteem, and sincere good wishes. My mind followed 
you to Paris, through your Alpine journey, and to Rome 5 
you are an admirable painter with your pen as well as 
with your pencil; every one to whom I showed your let- 
Q 



IS^i LIFE OF THE 

ters felt an interest in your little adventures, as well as a 
satisfaction in your description; because there is not only 
a taste, but a feeling in uhat you observe, something that 
shows you have an heart; and I would have you by all 
means keep it. I thank you for Alexander ; Reynolds 
sets an high esteem on it, he thinks it admirably drawn, 
and with great spirit. He had it at his house for some 
time, and returned it in a very fine frame ; and it at pre- 
sent makes a capital ornament of our litde dining-room 
between the two doors. At Rome you are, I suppose, 
even still so much agitated by the profusion of fine things 
on every side of you, that you have hardly had time to 
sit down to methodical and regular study. When you 
do, you will certainly select the best parts of the best 
things, and attach yourself to them wholly. You, whose 
letter would be the best direction in the world to any 
other painter, want none yourself from me who know 
little of the matter. But as you were always indulgent 
enough to bear my humour under the name of advice, 
you will permit me now, my dear Barry, once more to 
wish you, in the beginning at least, to contract the circle 
of your studies. The extent and rapidity of your mind 
carries you to too great a diversity of things, and to the 
completion of a whole before you are quite master of the 
parts, in a degree equal to the dignity of your ideas. This 
disposition arises from a generous impatience, which is a 
fault almost characteristic of great genius. But it is a 
fault nevertheless, and one which I am sure you will cor- 
rect, when you consider that there is a great deal of 
mechanic in your profession, in which, however, the dis- 
tinctive part of the art consists, and without which the 
first ideas can only make a good critic, not a painter. 

" I confess I am not much desirous of your compos- 
ing many pieces, for some time at least. Composition 



RIGHT HON EDMUND BURKE. 1S3 

(though by some people placed foremost in the list of the 
ingredients of an art) I do not value near so highlv\ I 
know none who attempts, that does not succeed tolera- 
bly in that part : but that exquisite masterly drawing, 
which is the glory of the great school where you are, has 
fallen to the lot of very few, perhaps to none of the pre- 
sent age, in its highest perfection. If I were to indulge 
a conjecture, I should attribute all that is called greatness 
of style and manner of drawing, to this exact knowledge 
of the parts of the human body, of anatomy and perspec- 
tive. For by knowing exactly and habitually, without 
the labour of particular and occasional thinking, what was 
to be done in every figure they designed, they naturally 
attained a freedom and spirit of outline ; because they 
could be daring without being absurd; whereas ignorance, 
if it be cautious, is poor and timid; if bold, it is only 
blindly presumptuous. This minute and thorough know- 
ledge of anatomy, and practical as well as theoretical per- 
spective, by which I mean to include foreshortening, is 
all the eifect of labour and use in particular studies, and 
not in general compositions. Notwithstanding your na- 
tural repugnance to handling of carcasses, you ouglit to 
make the knife go with the pencil, and study anatomy in 
real, and, if you can, in frequent dissections. You know 
that a man who despises, as you do, the minutiae of the 
art, is bound to be quite perfect in the noblest part of all, 
or he is nothing. Mediocrity is tolerable in middling 
things, but not at all in the great. In the course of the 
studies I speak of, it would not be amiss to paint por- 
traits often and diligendy. This I do not say as wishing 
you to turn your studies to portrait- painting, quite other- 
wise; but because many things in the human face will 
certainly escape you without some intermixture of that 
kind of studv. 



1S4! LIFE OF THE 

" Well, I think I have said enough to try your humi- 
lity on this subject. But 1 am thus troublesome from 
a sincere anxiety for your success. I think you a man 
of honour and of genius, and I would not have your 
talents lost to yourself, your friends, or your country, by 
any means. You will then attribute my freedom to my 
solicitude about you, and my solicitude to my friend- 
ship. Be so good to continue your letters and observa- 
tions as usual. They are exceedingly grateful to us all, 
and we keep them by us. 

*' Since 1 saw you I spent three months in Ireland. 
I had the pleasure of seeing Sleigh but for a day or two. 
We talked much about you, and he loves and esteems 
you extremely. 1 saw nothing in the way of your art 
there which promised much. Those who seemed most 
forward in Dublin when we were there, are not at all 
advanced, and seem to have little ambition. Here they 
are as you left them : Reynolds every now an then strik- 
ing out some wonder. Barrett has fallen into the paint- 
ing of views. It is the nmst called for, and the most 
lucrative part of his business. He is a wonderful ob- 
server of the accidents of nature, and produces every 
day something new from that source, and indeed is on 
the whole a delightful painter, and possessed of great 
resources. But I do not think he gets forward as much 
as his genius would entitle him to ; as he is so far from 
studying, that he does not even look at the pictures of 
any of the great masters, either Italians or Dutch. A 
man never can have any point of pride that is not perni- 
cious to him. He loves you, and always inquires for 
you. He is now on a night-piece, which is indeed noble 
in the conception; and in the execution of the very first 
merit. When I say he does not improve, I do not mean 
to say that he is not the first we have in that way, but 



SIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 1S5 

that his capacity ought to have carried him to equal any 
that ever painted landscape. 

" I have given you some account of your friends 
among the painters here, now I will say a word of our- 
selves. The change of the Ministry you know was 
pleasing to none of our household. . . . Your friend Will, 
did not think proper to hold even the place he had. He 
has therefore, u ith the spirit you know to belong to him, 
resigned his employment. But I thank God, we want 
in our new situation neither friends, nor a reasonable 
share of credit. It will be a pleasure to you to hear, 
that if we are out of play, others of your friends are in. 
Macleane is under-secretary in Lord Shelburne's office ; 
and there is no doubt but he will be, as he deserves, 
well patronised there." 

April 26, 1767. 
" My dear Barry. 

" I am rather late in thanking you for the last letter, 
which was, like all the others, friendly, sensible, and 
satisfactory. We have had a pretty stirring session 
hitherto, and, late as it is, I don't think we have got 
through three parts of it. The opposition to the present 
Ministry has been carried on with great vigour, and with 
more success than has of late years usually attended an 
opposition to Court measures. You know too much of 
our situation and temper not to see that we have taken 
a pretty active and sanguine part. You will rejoice to 
hear that our friend William has exerted himself two or 
three times in public with the highest credit. (A.n ac- 
count is here given of his brother Richard breaking his 

leg-) 

" The exhibition will be opened to-morrow. Rey- 
nolds, though he has, I think, some better portraits than 
he ever before painted, does not think mere heads suffi- 



^26 LIFE OP THE 

cient, and having no piece of fancy finished, sends in no- 
thing this time. Borrett will be better oft' than ever. He 
puts in a night-piece in a very noble style, and another 
very beautiful landscape, with a part of a rainbow on a 
"waterfall. They seem to be both excellent pictures. 
Jones, who used to be poet laureat to the exhibition, is 
prepared to be a severe and almost general satirist upon 
the exhibitors. His ill-behaviour has driven him from 
all their houses, and he resolves to take revenge in this 
manner. He has endeavoured to find out what pictures 
they will exhibit, and upon such information as he has 
got, has beforehand given a poetic description of those 
pictures vvhich he has not seen. I am told he has gone 
so far as to abuse Reynolds at guess, as an exhibitor of 
several pictures, though he does not put in one. This 
is a very moral poet. You are, my dear Barry, very 
kind in the offers to copy some capital picture for me ; 
and you may be sure that a picture which united 
yours to Raphael's efforts would be particularly agree- 
able to us all. I rnay one time or other lay this tax upon 
your friendship; but at present I must defer putting you 
to the trouble of such laborious copies. Because, until 
we have got another house, it will be impossible for me 
to let vou know what size will suit me. Indeed, in our 
present house (Queen Anne street,) the best picture of 
any tolerable size would embarrass me. Pray let me 
hear from you as often as your can ; your letters are most 
acceptable to us. All your friends here continue to love 
and constantly to inquire after you. Adieu, dear Barry, 
and believe me most sincerely yours, 

" E. Burke." 

August 24, 1767. 
" My dear Barry, 
'* It is with shame I find myself so late in answering 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 127 

a letter which gave me such sincere pleasure as your last. 
Whatever you may think of my delay, be persuaded that 
no want of regard for you had the least share in it. We 
all remember you with much esteem and affection ; and 
I hope we are not, any of us, of a character to forget our 
friends, because they are fifteen hundred miles distance 
from us, and away a year or two. I did indeed strong- 
ly flatter myself that Will, and I might probably have 
taken a trip to Rome in the recess. But the session ran 
to an unusual and mortifying length ; and as soon as it 
closed, a political negociation, for bringing my Lord 
Rockingham to the Administration, was opened, and thus 
our summer insensibly slid away ; and it became impos- 
sible for me, either in his company, or alone, to begin an 
enterprise that would demand four good months at least. 
The mention I have made of this negotiation has, I dare 
say, put you a litde in a flutter.*. ... At present there is 
no prospect of a sudden change ; therefore we remain as 
we are ; but with all the content which consciences at 
rest and circumstances in no distress can give us. We 
are now in the country, in a pretty retired spot about 
three miles from town. Richard is at Southampton for 
the benefit of sea-bathing, which has already been useful 
to his leg, rnd he gathers strength in the limb every day. 
This is our situation. As to your other friends, Barrett 
has got himself a little country-house. His business 
still holds on ; and indeed he deserves encouragement, 
for, independent of being a very ingenious artist, he 
is a worthy and most perfectly good-humoured fellow. 
However he has had the ill-luck to quarrel with almost 
all his acquaintance among the artists, with Stubbs, 

* The sentence omitted here has been already quoted in ano- 
ther part of this work. 



128 LIFE OF THE 

Wright, and Hamilton ; they are at mortal war, and I fan- 
cy he does not stand very well even with West. As to 
Mr. Reynolds, he is perfectly well, and still keeps that 
superiority over the rest, which he always had, from his 
genius, sense, and morals. 

" You never told me whether you received a long, I 
am afraid not very wise letter from me, in which I took 
the liberty of saying a great deal upon matters which you 
understand far better than I do. Had you the patience 
to bear it ? You have given a strong, and, I fancy, a 
very faithful picture of the dealers in taste with you. It 
is very right that you should know and remark their lit- 
tle arts ; but as fraud will intermeddle in every transac- 
tion of life, where we cannot oppose ourselves to it with 
effect, it is by no means our duty or our interest to make 
ourselves uneasy, or multiply enemies on account of it. 
In particular you may be assured that the traffic in antiqui- 
ty, and all the enthusiasm, folly, or fraud, that may be in 
it never did nor never can hurt the merit of living artists: 
quite the contrary, in my opinion ; for I have ever ob- 
served, that whatever it be that turns the minds of men 
to any thing relative to the arts, even the most remotely 
so, brings artists more and more into credit and repute; 
and though now and then the mere broker and dealer 
in such things runs away with a great deal of the profit ; 
yet in the end ingenious men will find themselves gainers, 
by the dispositions which are nourished and diffused in 
the world by such pursuits.* I praise exceedingly 
your resolution of going on well with those whose prac- 
tices you cannot altogether approve. There is no living 
in the world upon any other terms. 

*' Neither Will, nor I were much pleased with your 

* Daily observation shows the truth of this sagacious remark. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. ±29 

seeminj2^ to feel uneasy at a little necessary increase of ex- 
pense on your settling yourself You ought to know us 
too well not to be sensible that we think right upon these 
points. We wished you at Rome, that you might culti- 
vate your genius by every advantage which the place af» 
fords, and to stop at a little expense, might defeat the 
ends for which the rest v ere incurred. You know we 
desired you at parting never to scruple to draw for a few 
pounds extraordinary, and directions will be given to take 
your drafts on such occasions. You will judge yourself 
of the propriety, but by no means starve the cause. Your 
father wrote to me some time ago. The old gentleman 
seems to be uneasy at not hearing from you. I was at 
some distance in the country, but Mr. Bourke opened 
the letter, and gave him such an account as he could. 
You ought from time to time to write to him. And pray 
let us hear from you. How goes on your Adam and 
Eve ? Have you yet got your chest ? Adieu ! — let us 
hear fn^m you, and believe us all most truly and heartily 
yours." 

If these letters exhibit the writer's knowledge of the 
arts, sincerity of regard, wisdom of remark upon every 
subject he touches, and generous delicacy of conduct in 
taking off as much as he could the feeling of dependence 
from the mind of the painter by veiling the patron under 
the friend, the following is perhaps still more admirable 
for its keen estimate of the importance of temper and 
conduct to all men — for teaching the truest wisdom ia 
the practical business of living, not merely in the worlds 
but with the world. The occasion was the fro ward tem- 
per of Barry, involving him in frequent squabbles with 
his brethren at Rome ; and it should be read by every 
wayward and contentious man the moment he rises in 
R 



130 T-Ii'fi OF THE 

the inornin!^, and before he retires to rest at night. It 
displays also, in a peculiar degree, the same prophetic sa- 
gacity which so often distinguished Mr. Burke ; the pre- 
diction as to what the fate of the artist would be if he did 
not correct his peculiarities, being literally verified. 

Gregories, Sept. 16, 1769, 
" My dear Barry, 

" I am most exceedingly'obliged to your friendship 
and partiality, which attributed a silence very blameable 
on our parts to a favourable cause ; let me add in some 
measure to its true cause, a great deal of occupation of 
various sorts, and some of them disagreeable enough. 

" As to any reports concerning your conduct and be- 
haviour, you may be very sure they could have no kind 
of influence here ; for none of us are of such a make as 
to trust to any one's report for the character of a person 
whom we ourselves know. Until very lately, I had 
never heard any thing of your proceedings from others; 
and when I did, it was much less than I had known from 
yourself, that you had been upon ill terms with the ar- 
tists and virtuosi in Rome, without much mention of 
cause or consequence. If you have improved these un- 
fortunate quarrels to your advancement in your art, you 
have turned a very disagreeable circumstance to a very 
capital advantage. .However you may have succeeded 
in this uncommon attempt, permit me to suggest to you, 
with that friendly liberty which you have always had the 
goodness to bear from me, that you cannot possibly have 
always the same success, either with regard to your fortune 
or your reputation. Depend upon it, that you will find 
the same competitions, the same jealousies, the same arts 
and cabals, the same emulations of interest and of fame, 
and the same agitations and passions here that you have 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 131 

experienced in Italy ; and if they have the same effect on 
your .temper, they will have just the same effects upon 
your interest ; and iDe your merit what it will, you will 
never be employed to paint a picture. It will be the same 
at London as at Rome; and the same in Paris as in Lon- 
don : for the world is pretty nearly alike in all its parts : 
nay, though it would perhaps be a little inconvenient to 
me, I had a thousand times rather you should fix your 
residence in Rome than here, as I should not then have 
the mortification of seeing with my own eyes a genius of 
the first rank lost to the world, himself, and his friends, 
as I certainly must, if you do not assume a manner of 
acting and thinking here, totally different from what your 
letters from Rome have described to me. 

" That you have had just subjects of indignation al- 
ways, and of anger often, 1 do no ways doubt ; who can 
live in the world without some trial of his patience ? But 
believe me, my dear Barry, that the arms which the ill 
dispositions of the world are to be combated, and the 
qualities by which it is to be reconciled to us, and we re- 
conciled to it, are moderation, gentleness, a litde indul- 
gence to others, and a great deal of distrust of ourselves ; 
which are not qualities of a mean spirit, as some may 
possibly think them ; but virtues of a great and noble 
kind, and such as dignify our nature as much as they 
contribute to our repose and fortij^ ; for nothing can 
be so unworthy of a well-composed soul, as to pass away 
life in bickerings and litigations, in snarling and scuffling 
with every one about us. 

" Again and again, my dear Barry, we must be at 
peace with our species ; if not for their sakes, yet very 
much for our own. Think v\hat my feelings must be, 
from my unfeigned regard, and from my wishes that your 
talents might be of use, when I see what the inevitable 



13S . LIFK OF THE 

consequences must be, of your persevering!^ in what has 
hitherto been your course, ever since I knew you, and 
which you will permit me to trace out for you before- 
hand. 

*' You will come here ; you will observe what the ar- 
tists are doing ; and you will sometimes speak a disap- 
probation in plain words, and sometimes by a no less ex- 
pressive silence. By degrees you will produce some of 
yt;ur own works. They will be variously criticised; 
you will defend them ; you will abuse those that have at- 
tacked you ; expostulations, discussions, letters, possibly 
challenges, w ill go forward ; you will shun your brethren, 
they will shun you. In the mean time, gentlemen will 
avoid your friendship, for fear of being engaged in your 
quarrels ; you will fall into distresses which will only ag- 
gravate your disposition for farther quarrels ; you will be 
obliged for maintenance to do any thing for any body ; 
your very talents will depart for want of hope and encou- 
ragement ; and you will go out of the world fretted, dis- 
appointed, and ruined. 

" Nothing but my real regard for you could induce 
me to set these considerations in this light before you. 
Remember, we are born to serve and to adorn our coun- 
try, and not to contend with our fellow citizens, and 
that in paticular your business is to paint and not to dis- 
pute ;^ 

*' If yon think this a proper time to leave Rome (a 
matter which I leave entirely to yourself,) I am quite of 
opinion you ought to go to Venice. Further, I think it 
right to see Florence and Bologna ; and that you cannot 
do better than to take that route to Venice. In short, do 
every tiling that may contribute to your improvement, 
and I shall rejoice to see you what Providence intended 
you, a very great man. This you were, in your ideas. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 133 

before you quitted this ; you best know how far you 
have studied, that is, practised the mechanic ; despised 
nothing till you had tried it ; practised dissections with 
your own hands, painted from nature as well as from the 
statues, and portrait as well as history, and this frequentl}^ 
If you have done all this, as I trust you have, you want 
nothing but a little prudence, to fulfill all our wishes; 
This, let me tell you, is no small matter ; for it is im- 
possible for you to find any persons any v\ here more truly 
interested for you ; to these dispositions attribute every 
thing which may be a little harsh in this letter. We are, 
thank God, all well, and all most truly and sincerely 
yours. I seldom write so long a letter, lake this as a 
sort of proof how much I am, dear Barry, 
" Your faithful friend 

" and humble servant, 

"Edmund BuRKE.'^ 



CHAPTER V. 

Mr. Fox. — Pamphlet on the Discontents. — Parliamen" 
tary Business. — Character of the House of Commons. 
— Speech of the \9th of April, 1774. — Goldsmith.— 
Barry. — Johnson and Burke. — Election for Bristol. 

The address, in reply to the speech from the throne, 
the City remonstrance to tlie King, the affairs of Mr. 
Wilkes, and the discontents which generally prevailed, 
brought Mr. Burke forward almost daily in the session 
commencing 9th January, 1770. 

The debate of the first day, in which he took a leading 
part, occupied 12 hours ; and the second called forth an 



134? LIFE OF THE 

animated defence of his friend, Sir George Saville, from 
the censures of General Conway, for alleged violence of 
speech. 

His most distin2:uished exertions were on the 28th of 
March, in favour of the bounty on the exportation of 
corn; when the writers of the time state him to have 
" spoken inimitably well ;" — On the 30th of March, in 
support of Mr. Grenville's bill for regulating: controvert- 
ed elections, displaying great constitutional knowledge, 
drawing a beautiful distinction between faction and party, 
and strenuously urging the necessity for having represen- 
tatives of the commercial and every other class in Parlia- 
ment, as well as landholders, which some of the country 
gentlemen appeared by their speeches to doubt : — On 
the 9th of May, in proposing a series of resolutions of 
censure on Ministers, for their conduct in American af- 
fairs, introduced by a speech, said by contemporary 
opinion " to be full of sound argument, and infinite wit 
and raillery." Every speech he made, in fact, is highly 
praised, though the particulars, no more than those of 
other speeches, are not given, from the little attention 
then paid to reporting. 

A circumstance, which subsequent events made of 
interest, took place in the debate on the address, when 
Mr. Charles Fox, in his first parliamentary essay, at- 
tempting to answer the objections of the Rockingham 
party, had some of his arguments successfully turned 
into ridicule by its leader. No oifence was taken by the 
young orator. He had been taught some time before, 
by the literary society at his father's table, to think 
highly of the talents of Mr. Burke. He had known him 
personally since 1766, and they had been intimate for 
about two years ; and further acquaintance insured to 
the latter that admiration from his younger friend, which 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 135 

all who knew him intimately involuntary felt. From an 
admirer Mr. Fox became a disciple, a coadjutor, an ami- 
cable rival ; at length, by the occurrence of extraordi- 
nary and unlooked-for events, terminating, as he began, 
an opponent. 

Of this celebrated man it is unnecessary to say much, 
and very difficult to draw an impartial character, without 
giving offence to his friends, or gratifying the spleen of a 
large body of political adversaries. Of powers the most 
commanding, and parliamentary talents the most extra- 
ordinary, he did not often exemplify, either in public or 
private life, the possession of that sound prudence and 
practical wisdom which insure public confidence and 
reward. Something of this was owing to natural dispo- 
sition, something to parental indulgence, which left him 
in the most critical period of life wholly uncontrolled. 
His mind, manly even in youth, seemed to have reached 
maturity at a bound ; between the boy and the statesman 
there was scarcely an interval. But there accompanied 
this early precocity an utter disregard of self-discipline 
and control, and an absolute tyranny of the passions over 
the judgment; the very excess of dissipated habits, his 
neglect of the observances of common life, his indifference 
to private character, which, even in his most popular 
days, made him an object of distrust to the reflecting part 
of the nation, all indicated an ill-regulated mind. It is 
said, as an additional proof of it, that he paid little regard 
to religion; if so, who but must sincerely regret it? If 
such be the inevitable result of early debauchery upon 
the character, it is, indeed, a heavy sentence upon frail 
humanity. 

Yet his virtues w^re of the first cast. He was affec- 
tionate, mild, generous, friendly, and sincere; obs'^nring 
his errors so eflectually, that scarcely one of his friends 



136 LIFE OF THE 

could see them, or could for a moment admit the uncha- 
ritable interpretation often put upon them by the world. 
Few men in public life, except perhaps Mr. Burke, have 
had more political enemies, though in private life perhaps 
not one; we might be displeased with the politician, but 
it was scarcely possible to hate the man. There was a 
good-natured, almost culpable, facility about his charac- 
ter, which frequently brought him into the society, and 
sometimes under the influence of persons, not only of 
inferior talents, but of questionable principles and views; 
and though without any community of feeling with these, 
or with the enemies of our constitution and government, 
it must be confessed that he occasionally gave such per- 
sons his countenance, so as to alarm the more cautious, 
the more circumspect, or more timid part of the public: 
but this was one of his many sacrifices to popularity, 
made at a time when it became necessary to strengthen 
his few remaining adherents by allies of every descrip- 
tion. The same facility made him, in the opinion of 
many, a dupe to the plausibility of Buonaparte, in 1802 
and 1806, and, at the former period, caused him to admit 
to his table in France a convicted British traitor, fresh 
from carrying arms against his native country. 

The extraordinary powers which he possessed were 
chiefly from nature, and he often seemed to depend upon 
them alone without consulting the surer guide of expe- 
rience. He had, of course, infinitely more of ingenuity 
than of knowledge, more of originality of thought than of 
patient research ; more of decision than of reflection ; he 
was more acute than discriminating; he was self-willed 
through life, obstinately attached to his own opinions, 
and undervaluing, though not offensively, those of the 
rest of mankind. He was heard to say, in the earlier part 
of life, that " he had never wished to do any thing which 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 137 

he did not do," and that " he considered advice an insult 
to his understanding." — In conversation he was back- 
ward and sluggish, seldom rising above mediocrity; in 
epistolary communication, common place; in historical 
writing, neither profound nor original ; in debate alone, he 
often rose above all competition, especially in bursts of 
indescribable power; but as an orator, in the higher and 
more extended sense of the word, whose outpourings are 
worthy to live and will live, he was on all great occasions 
much excelled by Btirke. The bent of his mind in po- 
litics, was to great things rather than to the more com- 
mon ; to what was imposing and theoretically perfect, 
rather than to what was useful and applicable ; he caught 
eagerly at the bold and the splendid, at daring novelties, 
and plausible generalities, without sufficiently considering, 
or caring for, the difficulties opposed to their being carried 
into effect. No one knew men better in every-day life; 
but he did not so well know man, when placed in un- 
common and untried situations. 

A remarkable distinction between him and Burke was, 
that the latter, though educated like a philosopher, and 
often teaching with the wisdom of one, rejected all theory 
opposed to experience, in treating of the practical business 
of the state. While Fox, brought up as a man of the 
world, and always declaiming as such, appeared in prac- 
tice often inclined to play the mere philosopher. Though 
equally grand in his views, he had not the knowledge, 
the caution, the penetration of Burke, to foresee their 
results. What he clearly saw, no man could better de- 
scribe, but his eye did not take in the whole moral hori- 
zon; he was impatient of that labour of meditation and 
calculation which distinguished his celebrated friend and 
political instructor. 

By many persons, his political life has been called a 
S 



138 LIFE OF THE 

failure; inasmuch as he attained for no time that power 
for which he had all his life contended ; — as the credit of 
opposing^ the American war was chiefly due to Burke as 
principal, and to his constant teaching and prompting; 
— as on the question of the French Revolution he was 
overpowered by the latter both at the moment of contest 
and in the ultimate results, and left a leader almost with- 
out a party, a general without an army; public opinion 
having then, and ever since, cast the strongest reflections 
on his political wisdom and general conduct. 

Much also has been said of his opposition to the cause 
of America, to that of the Dissenters, to that of Mr. 
Wilkes, to the rights of Juries, and in fact to every po- 
pular topic between 1769 and 1774; of his coalitions, his 
sacrifices sometimes to popularity, sometimes to obtain 
party superiority, as indicative of continual inconsisten- 
cies of conduct; and that in fact Lord North made him a 
patriot by dismissing him with circumstances of personal 
indignity, from being a Lord of the Treasury. 

Let it be remembered, however, that he was then 
young; neither let us press public men too hardly on the 
point of seeming inconsistency. They are believed by 
the people to sin in this respect much more than they 
themselves can admit, or conscientiously believe; and 
the reason is, that the change or modification of opinion 
proceeds in their minds gradually and imperceptibly to 
its completion, while to the public, who know nothing of 
the operation going on, it comes suddenly and unexpect- 
edly. 

But after all, is there any point on which a statesman 
may not conscientiously think differently at diflferent 
times? Is there one vvho has all his life, in office and 
out of office, expressed precisely the same sentiments 
upon all the same subjects? Is there a man of any de- 



RIGHT HON. KDJVIUND RURKE. 139 

scription whose opinions, on many topics, have not, at 
some period of his life, changed? He who says the con- 
trary deceives himself, or wishes to deceive others. The 
human mind does not start into maturity at once armed 
at all points like Minerva from the head of Jupiter; it is 
progressive in the attainment of wisdom; and though the 
last actions of our lives may not be the wisest, there is as 
little doubt that men generally, as they advance in life, 
become wiser. 

In this year Mr. Richard Burke re-visited Grenada. 
The domestic affections of Kdmund, which were always 
particularly sensitive,and in this instance felt some alarm 
from the insalubrity of the climate, experienced allevia- 
tion in the promising progress of his own son, then at 
Westminster School, of whom, to the last moment of his 
life, he was as proud as he was fond. William Bourke 
thus repeats the usual praises of the admiring father, which 
some of his surviving friends will remember as being even 
then remarkably warm-*-" Ned's little boy is every thing 
we could wish, good in his person, excellent in temper 
and disposition, attentive and diligent in his studies be- 
yond his years. He has read Virgil and Horace, and 
some prose writers. He has gone through about four 
books of Homer, and is reading Lucian with really a 
scientific knowledge of Greek.'' 

A petition to the King from the freeholders of Buck- 
inghamshire, praying for a new Parliament, in conse- 
quence of the odium excited against the existing one by 
the decision on the Middlesex election and other unpopu- 
lar acts, was drawn up and presented by Mr. Burke. 

A great effort, tending to the same purpose, and meant 
to point out the general errors of government, was his 
famous pamphlet, " Thoughts on the Cause of the pre- 
sent Discontents," brought out in this year ; the most 



140 L.11-'E OJ;' THJti 

masterly thing of the kind in our language, excepting his 
own work on the French Revolution ; a source of interest 
and instruction to every statesman, and a species of text- 
book then and at all times for the Whig connexion. It 
was not merely meant as an occasional piece, but for 
posterity, by the constitutional tendency of its general 
views, the depth and truth of its observations, which, 
with tiie eloquence of ih'i style, impart that sensation of 
eenius and wisdom characterising: all his works. In this 
will be found the germ of the leading doctrines which 
distinguished him in after-life ; holding a mean between 
the extremes of what were considered the popular and 
the Court doctrines. Of Lord Bute he speaks with a 
Candour and moderation which scarcely any other public 
man thought it necessarv to observe: the attack on the 
secret manceuvres of the Court, from a statesman labour- 
ing for power, indicated an unusual degree of political 
courage; nor did some opinions broached by the more 
democratical writers meet with more ceremonious treat- 
ment, for which the adherents of Ministry on one side, 
and Mrs. Macauley on the other, lost no time in attack- 
ing him. Against Parliamentary Reform he urges very 
ingenious and very solid objections; and his defence of 
party connexions has never been answered ; putting to 
silence the hitherto common reproach applied to most 
public characters, of being party- men. 

The '♦ False Alarm," by Johnson, on the other side of 
the question, appeared not only without effect, but when 
compared with its opponent, to considerable disadvantage. 
No political feeling interfered with their private friendship. 
The good offices of both had been exerted towards the 
end of the preceding year in favour of Baretti, who had 
been tried for stabbing a man in the Haymarket by whom 
he had been attacked ; when in consulting on the nature 



lilGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 141 

of his defence, Johnson's usual love of dictation, even to 
Burke, appeared in contradicting him with undue degree 
of warmth ; an error, however, which he acknowledged 
with the same frankness ; for on being reminded of his 
heat, he said, " It may be so, sir, for Burke and I should 
hiwe been of one opinion, if we had had no audience.'' 

The session 1770 — 1771 was a busy and important 
one, chiefly occupied by domestic matters. Never per- 
haps was party spirit and general disquiet more prevalent, 
short of actual disturbance ; but of the speeches of Mr. 
Burke, though continually praised, no full, or even tole- 
rably full, report is preserved from his entrance into Par- 
liament till 1774, except, as has been suggested, they be 
found among the papers of Sir Henry Cavendish, who 
was in the habit of taking pretty copious notes. 

One of the first topics on which he dilated, after attack- 
ing Ministers in the debate on the Address, was on the 
power of filing informations as applied to the case of Al- 
mon, who was prosecuted for publishing the letter of Ju- 
nius to the King, which others had done with impunity. In 
this he characterised that writer in terms which first turned 
from himself the suspicion of being the writer, it not being 
believed that such a man would descend to praise him- 
self; — comparing the letters with the North Briton, he 
termed the latter mere milk -and water papers, and at 
another time, a mixture of vinegar and water at once sour 
and vapid. 

To a motion by Serjeant Glynn for an inquiry into the 
administration of criminal justice in Westminster Hall, 
he gave his support, yet reprobated the asperity of re- 
proach applied to Lord Mansfield, for which he was 
called to account in the public journals ; and, among 
his papers is the draught of a letter addressed, or meant 
to be addressed, to one of them in explanation of the prin- 



14S LIFE OF THE 

ciple of the law of libel, and repelling the charge of giv- 
ing more credit than he deserved to the unpopular Chief 
Justice of the King's Bench. Two bills, one for ascer- 
taining the rights of electors in choosing their representa- 
tives, February 7th ; the other those of juries in prosecu- 
tions for libel, March 7th, brought him vigorously for- 
ward in their favour ; the latter, though introduced as Mr. 
Dowdesvvell's, was Mr. Burke's own bill, which Mr. 
Fox copied nearly to the letter in his bill of 1791, with- 
out acknowledgment ; the former even at this time anti- 
cipating the public voice by requiring that the jury should 
be judges both of the law and the fact. Fragments of 
his speeches on these subjects appear in his works. 

The affair of Falkland's Islands furnished the theme of 
several ethers ; one particularly before the Christmas re- 
cess, said by the reports of those who heard him to have 
been " in the highest strain of oratory ;" and one in January 
equally distinguished for sarcastic ridicule ; a talent in 
which he excelled all his contemporaries, and often ex- 
erted with striking effect. Opposition were much blamed 
for their intemperate conduct on this subject, but perhaps 
without justice ; for it is now known that by a secret 
agreement between Spain and France in 1763, they had 
become pledged to a war with England to recover their 
lost credit and territories, whenever their finances per- 
mitted ; and the necessities of the latter alone prevented 
the dispute from becoming the ostensible cause at this 
moment. 

To this immediately succeeded the important contest 
between the House of Commons and the City Magistrates 
on the question of the printers giving the proceedings in 
Parliament, which, arising from the cupidity of a feu ob- 
scure individuals, terminated in securing the greatest 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 143 

constitutional privilege gained since the Revolution,~-the 
tacit liberty of publishing the debates. 

Mr. Burke embraced the popular side of the question 
with his accustomed zeal and ability ; and- when at length 
the house confessed itself conquered, by adjourning over 
the day on which Mr. Wilkes was ordered to attend, he 
did not cease to pursue their resolutions with reproach 
and ridicule. On the 2d of April, in company with the 
Dukes of Portland and Manchester, Marquis of Rockino-- 
ham, Earl Fitzwilliam, Lord King, and others, he paid 
a formal visit to the Lord Mayor and Alderman Oliver in 
the Tower. A proposition of Alderman Sawbridge to 
shorten the duration of Parliaments was with equal "deci- 
sion opposed by him as inexpedient and uncalled for by 
the sense of the country ; the substance of the speech has 
a place in his works. 

In the spring of the year, Barry, who had executed 
two or three paintings for his patron while abroad, return- 
ed from Italy full of importance, of virtu, and of a more 
noxious disposition too often imbibed by long residence 
on the continent — an inclination to Deism. Mr. Burke 
immediately assailing it with the most powerful argu- 
ments, and a few good books, particularly Bishop Butler's 
Analogy, succeeded in fixing the painter's belief in re- 
vealed religion. It is a memorable instance of the enve- 
nomed spirit abroad against this distinguished man, long 
afterwards, for his opposition to revolutionary France, 
that among other slanderous accusations of the day, was 
that of having been given to deistical raillery. 

His acquaintance with Dr Beattie, who had arrived 
in London during the summer, preceded by the fame of 
his '' Minstrel," and " Essay on Truth," perhaps incit- 
ed him more strongly to convince the artist of his error; 
the latter work he and Johnson praised highly for its 



144< LIFE OF THE 

support of religion in opposition to the sceptical meta- 
physics of Hume. Burke's opinion of metaphysicians 
is jriven with characteristic force in the letter to a Noble 
Lord, when speakinj^ of the Philosophers of the National 
Convention : — " Nothing can be conceived more hard 
than the heart of a thorough-bred metaphysician. It 
comes nearer to the cold malignity of a wicked spirit than 
to the frailty and passion of a man. It is like that of the 
principle of evil himself, incorporeal, pure, unmixed, de- 
phlegmated, defacated evil." Beattie's opinion of the 
science is not more favourable : — " It is the bane of true 
learning, true taste, and true science ; to it we owe all 
modern scepticism and atheism ; it has a bad effect upon 
the human faculties, and tends not a little to sour the 
temper, to subvert good principles, and to disqualify men 
for the business of life." 

In September 1771, Goldsmith, writing to Mr. Lang- 
ton, thus alludes to their friend's usual occupation : — 
" Burke is a farmer, en attendant a better place, but visit- 
ing about too." This better place was not speedily ob- 
tained : but two months afterwards he received the ap- 
pointment of Agent to the State of New Y'>rk, worth 
nearly 1000/. per annum, which, though it tended on all 
future occasions to give him the most correct views of 
American affairs, diminished perhaps the effect of his 
oratory in the House, and of his wisdom out of doors, 
from an illiberal surmise that his advice might not be 
wholly disinterested. 

The next session, 1772, was short, and produced little 
of importance. A petition from 250 clergymen of the 
Establishment, and several members of the professions 
of law and physic, praying to be relieved from subscrip- 
tion to the 39 Articles, and called, from their place of 
meeting, the Feather's Tavern Associiition, he opposed 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 115 

a^^ainst the opinions of several of his party, on the plea, 
amon^ other reasons, that while they professed to belong 
to the Establishment, and profiled by it, no hardship 
could be implied in requiring some common bond of 
agreement among its members. 

For the same reason he ably supported a motion soon 
aftemards made to relieve Dissenting Ministers who nei- 
ther agreed with the Church, nor participated in its emo- 
luments, from this test; and it was carried through the 
C()n)mons by a great majority, though rejected by the 
Lords. The Royal Marriage Act he opposed. A bill 
to quiet the possessions of the subject against dormant 
claims of the Church, introduced the 17th of February, 
found in him a powerful though unsuccessful advocate, on 
the same principle as the Nullum Tempus Act against 
dormant claims of the Crown ; fragments of some of 
these speeches are given in his works. A bill for the Re- 
lief of Protestant Dissenters, to whom he always dis- 
played the utmost liberality and regard, being introduced 
the succeeding session (1773,) he supported it in a long 
and most ably-argued speech, against some petitions of 
the Methodist body, who, schismatics themselves, de- 
precated indulgence to others, and were severely hand- 
led by Mr. Burke. His exertions on this and previous 
occasions touching ecclesiastical matters, exciting some 
suspicion of his orthodoxy among over zealous Church- 
men, the delivery of the following passage in this speech 
drew very warm and general applause ; an outline of the 
whole, which is well worthy of perusal by those who take 
an interest in the question may be seen in his works, 
vol. X. 

" At the same time that I would cut up the very root of 
Atheism, I would respect all conscience; all conscience 
that is really such, and which perhaps its very tenderness 
T 



116 LIFE OF THE 

proves to be sincere. I wish to see the Established 
Church of England great and powerful ; I wish to see 
her foundations laid low and deep, that she may crush 
the giant powers of rebellious darkness ; I would have 
her head raised up to that heaven to which she conducts 
us. I would have her open wide her hospitable gates 
by a noble and liberal comprehension, but I would 
have no breaches in her wall ; I would have her che- 
rish all those who are within, and pity all those who are 
without ; I would have her a common blessing to the 
world, an example, if not an instructor, to those who have 
not the happiness to belong to her ; I would have her 
give a lesson of peace to mankind, that a vexed and vi^an- 
dering generation might be taught to seek for repose and 
toleration in the maternal bosom of Christian charity, and 
not in the harlot lap of infidelity and indifference. No- 
thing has driven people more into that house of seduction 
than the mutual hatred of Christian congregations. Long 
may we enjoy our Church under a learned and edifying 
episcopacy." 

In the summer, and again in 1773, he visited France, 
where Maria Antoinette appeared in that glow of splen- 
dour and of youthful beauty which, when afterwards de- 
picted by his pen, drew the compassion and sympathies 
of Europe. All the chief of those coteries, since so 
much celebrated in literary history, were opened to re- 
ceive him, but their prevailing spirit excited in his mind 
a strong aversion, and he formed but few acquaintance, 
some of whom were among the ecclesiastics. 

Nevrr perhaps were there seen together in one capi- 
tal, at one time, so many men, and even women, of ex- 
traordinary intellectual powers. But the lustre which 
they cast upon every department of science and literature, 
was scarcely more remarkable than the perversion of 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 117 

mind which led them to despise the first and greatest 
bonds which hold society together. They valued every 
thing but religion ; they practised every thing but mo- 
rality ; infidelity and vice were the only links of union; and 
the mass, splendid as it was, formed but a species of mo- 
ral dung-heap, rotten and stinking at heart, but luminous 
on the surface by the very excess of its putrefaction. 

Mr. Burke felt alarm and disgust at what he saw, parti- 
cularly as it seemed backed by an equal antipathy to all ex- 
isting institutions of the country. In the very next session 
of Parliament he pointed out '* this conspiracy of Atheism 
to the watchful jealousy of governments ; and though not 
fond of calling in the aid of the secular arm to suppress 
doctrines and opinions, yet if ever it was raised it should 
be against those enemies of their kind, who would take 
from man the noblest prerogative of his nature, that of 
being a religious animal. Already under the systematic 
attacks of these men I see many of the props of good go- 
vernments beginning to fail. I see propagated principles 
which will not leave to religion even a toleration, and 
make virtue herself less than a name :" memorable words, 
indeed, when we remember their literal fulfilment. 

Mr. Dyer, a learned and amiable man, a member of 
the club, and a valued friend of Mr. Burke, dying in Sep- 
tember, he drew up a character of him for the newspa- 
pers. The circumstance would not otherwise require no- 
tice, had it not been for a rumour again strongly revived 
of their being both concerned in the composition of Ju- 
nius's Letters; particularly on account of the great anxiety 
displayed by Richard Burke to gain possession of a small 
box of papers among the effects of the deceased, which he 
described as being of great importance to him, though of 
none to any other person. He received the papers, but 
the nature of the contents never transpired. 



118 LIFE OF THE 

Nearly the whole of the next session was occupied by 
the affairs of the India Company, in w hich the labour of 
Mr. Burke in debate, and the extent of his acquaintance 
with the subject, uere avowed by some of the Directors, 
Members of the House, to be very honourable to his in- 
dustry. A commission of supervision was at length or- 
dered to be sent out agaiiist all the efforts of Opposition, 
thoui^h Lord North did not hesitate to profit by a variety 
of other susjgestions thrown out by its leader : he always 
professed admiration of his talents, and it was more than 
once said, would have been glad to secure his assistance, 
or his silence, on any terms that he chose to propose. It 
is certain that a short time before this, a question was put 
to Mr. Burke, through some of the leading people at the 
India House, whether he was willing to go out at the head 
of a commission for revising the whole interior adminis- 
tration of India. The bait, tempting even to a man of 
the most sturdy integrity, insured wealth without requir- 
ing renunciation of party connexion ; but, again, his per- 
sonal, and, what he thought more of, his family interests, 
were sacrificed to unbending principle. 

" I attest heaven and earth," said he, in debate at the 
time, *' that in all places, and at all times, I have stead- 
fastly shoved aside the gilded hand of corruption, and 
endeavoured to stem the torrent which threatens to over- 
whelm this island ;" adding on another occasion — " I 
know the political map of England as well as the Noble 
Lord (North,) or as any other person ; and I know that 
the way I take is not the path to preferment." 

The hold which he had acquired of public opinion, and 
the lead which he had taken in the popular branch of the 
Legislature, were the best evidences of his importance 
and powers, considering that in the latter no favour, scarce- 



I RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 149 

!y toleration, is given to any man who does not by unques- 
ed talents conquer his way to it. 

The House of Commons is in many respects an extra- 
ordinary assembly. It is not only the leading branch of 
the Legislature, the immediate organ and purse-bearer of 
the people, the jealous guardian of the Constitution, the 
chosen temple of fame, as Burke himself termed it, the 
main avenue to honours and power, but it is especially 
the great touchstone of talents for public business. A 
man may often deceive himself or others on the real ex- 
tent of his abilities for such employment, but he can rarely 
impose upon this body ; few know of what they are ca- 
pable when they enter into it, and few come out without 
having found their just weight in the political balance. 
It does not therefore merely serve to make a man great, 
but if he be really deficient in the qualities of a great 
statesman, it is sure to render him little ; elsewhere it may 
be difficult to draw this inviduous distinction ; but there 
it is done silently though effectually. 

It is in vain, from the number of jealous eyes quick 
ears, rival feelings, subtle and powerful understandings, 
directed to all the proceedings of a member, that incapa- 
city can hope to escape detection, or mediocrity seize the 
palm of excellence. A dull man will soon be neglected, 
a superficial one seen through, a vain one laughed at, and 
an ignorant one despised. There is, perhaps, no earthly 
ordeal for statesmen so trying as this ; and no abilities 
which, by passing through it with celebrity, may not be 
taken as sterling. 

But in addition to these it serves other useful purposes; 
it is the great purger and purifier of opinions. No person 
of moderate capacity desirous of being instructed, of gain- 
ing from the experience of older senators what they have 
partly gained from their predecessors, can sit there long 



150 LIFE OP THE 

without being wiser, or if not, the presumption is against 
his understanding. If he be at all open to conviction, 
new lights will break in upon him on most subjects of 
dispute ; his prejudices, his preconceived and imperfect 
notions, be one by one removed, to be re-arranged in more 
perfect combinations elaborated in this school of practical 
wisdom. 

Nor is it less serviceable as the scourge of political 
quackery ; for a conceited or turbulent man, who may 
assuvTie a high tone with the public at large, on the infal- 
libility of his remedies for the national evils, no sooner 
goes there than he sinks into insignificance. The deco- 
rum, and the awe inspired by the place, commonly strike 
him dumb, and while silent he is safe; but if once tempted 
to give vent to his crudities, is instantly assaulted by the 
united powers of eloquence, argument, and ridicule; and 
beaten, if not out of the House, at least out of notice. 
Presumption and dogmatism, on public topics, deserve 
and meet with no mercy there; and schemes, which for 
a time mislead even sensible men out of doors, are no 
sooner touched by the Ithuriel's spear of the House of 
Commons, than their folly or mischief becomes evident. 
Yet persons are sometimes found even there wholly in- 
curable ; impenetrable to reasoning, and insensible to 
contempt, to whom the knife and the cautery are applied 
in vain; but the exceptions only prove the rule. 

A tax on absentees, proposed in the Irish Parliament 
at this time by Mr. Flood, and approved by Ministry, 
drew an able letter, now inserted in his works, from Mr. 
Burke to Sir Charles Bingham who had expressly written 
for his opinion on the subject; this proved decidedly 
ao-ainst it. Lord Charlemont and other friends to the 
proposal, were converted by his arguments; and being 
seconded by a representation to Lord North from some 



RIGHT HON EDMUND BURKE. f51 

x>f the chief proprietors resident in England, caused the 
measure to be abandoned. 

The general insubordination to all lawful authority at 
Boston, and the destruction of the tea sent thither because 
it was to pay duty, made the session of 1774 an impor- 
tant one, from the measures adopted by Ministry against 
the refractory port and province of Massachusetts. A 
general feeling prevailed here that some punishment was 
necessary. Mr. Burke, however, though unsupported 
by his party, declared decidedly against the Boston Port 
Bill, deprecating it in the most solemn manner, as partial, 
severe, unjust towards the innocent, fraught with danger 
to our authority, and threatening to bring the question 
of force at once to issue : " Never," said he, " did any 
thing give me more heart-felt sorrow than the present 
measure." This proved, as he expected, the great turn- 
ing point of American politics ; but, strange to say, scarce- 
ly another man of talents in the House viewed it with the 
same alarm that he did : another most memorable instance 
©f his profound political penetration. 

The other proceediiigs, in which he took a leading part, 
were in perpetuating Mr. Grenville's Election Bill, which 
was unaccountably opposed ; the Quebec Bill, the bills 
for altering the government of Massachusetts, and the 
petitions to which they gave rise. 

But the distinguishing feature of the session, and the 
greatest effort of oratory, as it was universally considered, 
which had hitherto been made in the House of CommonSj 
or in any other popular assembly, was his speech on the 
19th of April, on a motion by Mr. Fuller, who usually 
supported Ministry, wholly to repeal the obnoxious tea 
duty. He did not rise till the evening was advanced, 
and some members had withdrawn, who, on the report 
of his unusual brilliancy, hurried back to give frequent 



152 LIFE OF THK 

and audible testimones of their admiration of his powers, 
thousfh they would not j^ive him their votes. The mur- 
murs of applause in the jrallery were only restrained from 
burstinp^ out by awe of the House. It was on this occa- 
sion, after the delivery of a particularly powerful passap^e, 
that Lord John Townshend, who had retired thither with 
some friends, exclaimed aloud — "Good God! what a 
man this is! — how could he acquire such transcendent 
powers?" 

The plain, practical, common- sense policy, recom- 
mended in the following animated passage, drew from 
Mr. Sampson, an intelligent American much in the con- 
fidence of Dr. Franklin a loud exclamation to a friend, 
who sat at a little distance from him in the gallery: *' You 
have sot a most wonderful man here; he understands 
more of America than all the rest of your House put to- 
gether." 

" Let us, Sir, embrace some system or other before 
we end this session. Do you mean to tax America, and to 
draw a productive revenue from her? If you do, speak out, 
name, fix, ascertain this revenue; settle its quantity; define 
its objects; provide for its collection ; and then fight when 
you have something to fight for. If you murder, — rob; 
if you kill, — take possession; and do not appear in the 
character of madmen as well as assassins, violent, vindic- 
tive, bloody and tyrannical, without an object. But may 
better counsels guide you ! 

" Again and again, revert to your old principles — seek 
peace and ensue it — leave America, if she has taxable 
matter in her, to tax herself. I am not here going into 
the distinctions of rights, nor attempting to mark their 
boundaries. 1 do not enter into these metaphysical dis- 
tinctions; I hate the very sound of them. Leave the 
Americans as they anciently stood, and these distinctions,. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 153 

born of our unhappy contest, will die along with it. They 
and we, and their and our ancestors, have been happy 
under that system. Let the memory of all actions in 
contradiction to that good old mode, on both sides, be 
extinguished for ever. Be content to bind America by 
laws of trade; you have always done it. Let this be your 
reason for binding their trade. Do not burthen them 
with taxes; you were not used to do so from the begin- 
ning^. Let this be your reason for not taxing. These 
are the arguments of states and kingdoms. Leave the 
rest to the schools, for there only they may be discussed 
with safety. But if intemperately, unwisely, fatally, you 
sophisticate and poison the very source of government 
by urging subtle deductions, and consequences odious 
to those you govern, from the unlimited and illimitable 
nature of supreme sovereignty, you will teach them by 
these means to call that sovereignty itself in question. 
When you drive him hard, the boar will turn upon the 
hunters. If that sovereignty and their freedom cannot 
be reconciled, which will they take? They will cast 
your sovereignty in your face. No body of men will be 
argued into slavery. Sir, let the gentlemen on the other 
side call forth all their ability; let the best of them get 
up and tell me, what one character of liberty the Ame- 
ricans have, and what one brand of slavery they are free 
from, if they are bound in their property and industry by 
all the restraints you can imagine on commerce, and at 
the same time are made pack-horses of every tax you 
choose to impose, without the least share in granting 
them. When they bear the burthens of unlimited mo- 
nopoly, will you bring them to bear the burthens of un- 
limited revenue too? The Englishman in America will 
feel that this is slavery ;-^that it is legal slavery, will be 
U 



151 LIFE OF THE 

110 compensation either to his feelings or to his under- 
sta ding." 

The repl}!' to Lord Carmarthen, from its force, beauty, 
and readiness, excited a great emotion in the House. His 
Lordship observed, that Manchester not being repre- 
sented, had as much right to complain as the colonies; 
and that, as our children, the Americans Vvere guilty of 
the revolting crime of rebellion against their parent; — 
" True," replied the orator, " they are our children, but 
when children ask for bread, shall we give them a stone? 
When they wish to assimilate to their parent, and to re- 
flect with a true filial resemblance the beauteous coun- 
tenance of British liberty, are we to turn to them the 
shameful parts of our constitution ? Are we to give them 
our weakness for their strength ? Our opprobrium for 
their glory ? And the slough of slavery which we are 
not able to work off, to serve them for their freedom ?" 

The merits of this speech are of a great and peculiar 
cast; a force and truth of argument, not to be answered 
— ornament not more than enough — an intuitive, straight- 
forward wisdom, which, on all great occasions, seems 
never to have deserted him. — a range of observation, 
which nobody else dare attempt without certain ruin to 
the speaker and to the subject — yet skilfully brought to 
bear upon the point he has in view. To this end even his 
digressions, his illustrations, his imagery, his narrative of 
measures, his exposition of our true policy, his appeals 
to experience, his graphic sketches of character, all forci- 
bly tend. Nothing that comes in his way but is con- 
verted to use ; every figure becomes an argument ; and 
when seeming most to wander from the point, he suddenly 
wheels round and overpowers us with some new and 
formidable auxiliary to reason. It is, and indeed all his 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 155 

speeches are, a combination of all the constituents of elo- 
quence, such as no other orator, foreign or native, ancient 
or modern, has been able to give us. 

As a ready debater it added to his fame, much of it 
being unquestionably extemporaneous ', it was also the 
first speech uhich his friends could persuade him to com- 
mit to the press, and for this purpose he had the use of 
their notes. On the public it made a great impression • 
the censure of the opposite party was confined more to 
the manner than to the matter ; and Lord North, though 
he negatived the motion, appeared so confounded or con- 
vinced by the reasoning of its supporter, that early in the 
next session he offered to repeal the tax, if that would sa- 
tisfy America. 

About the same time his friend, poor Goldsmith, died, 
having scarcely finished his pleasant poem of Retaliation, 
written in reply to some jocular epitaphs upon him, by 
the club at St. James's Coffee-house, and in which, as 
one of the number, the character of Mr. Burke, who 
with Dr. Johnson, took the trouble to direct his funeral, 
is spiritedly drawn j though well known to every reader 
of poetry, it cannot well be omitted in a memoir of him 
whom it describes. Allowing for that exaggeration and 
sarcastic pleasantry, which the occasion called for, it would 
be difficult to comprise more wit and truth in the same 
number of lines. 

Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such. 
We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much ; 
Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind. 
And to party gave up what was meant for mankind. 
Though fraught with all learniog, yet straining his throat. 
To persuade Tommy Townahend to lend him a vote ; 
Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining, 
And thought of convincing, whi e they th.)ught of dining 
Though equal to all things, for ali tilings unfit. 
Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit; 



156 LIFE OF THE 

For a patriot too cool, for a drudge disobedient. 
And too fond of the right, to pursue the expedient ; 
In short, 'twas his fate unemploy'd or in place. Sir, 
To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor. 

Of the lively and affectionate interest which Mr. Burke 
took in the success, both in life and in art, of his prote^^e, 
Barry, abundant proofs have been already ^iven ; but he 
soon saw, with great pain, after the latter had been resident 
a short tune in England, that a peculiar temper and hu- 
mours would in all probability mar, if not destroy, the 
effect of his undoubted talents. With many great and 
good qualities, few persons among his own art could live 
with the painter long on terms of amit}' ; he was eccen- 
tric and peculiar ; and scarcely any man who is so is 
agreeable to society ; he had a harshness and freedom of 
expression in matters of opinion, which carried him fur- 
ther than he meant, and frequently gave offence, when 
offence was not intended ; he had a mode of thinking and 
of acting of his own in all things ; he had an utter con- 
tempt for money, yet v\as subject to the distresses which 
money alone could relieve, and felt the want of that con- 
sequence uhich, after all, money is one of the chief means 
of imparting ; he had a great thirst for fame, but would 
not seek it on the terms which general opinion prescribed; 
he thought the world ouf^ht to conform to his views, and 
not he to the world'^. ; he would not submit to paint por- 
traits, and was, therefore, pretty certain of never arriving 
either at popularity or wealth. 

A humour of his at this moment, which to some would 
have appeared like ingratitude, though this was by no 
means the case, had rearly produced a breach between 
him and his patron. The latter wished to have his pic- 
ture painted in order to gratify an old friend ; and calling 
frequently for this purpose, was always put off with ex- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 157 

cuses of prior occupation, or the necessity of receiving 
previous notice, v\hich it appeared Mr. Barke, from his 
incessant engagements, was wholly unable to give. The 
friend in question at length, complaining of the delay, the 
following letter was written to the painter. 

" Sir, 
" I ought to apologise to you, for the liberty I have pre- 
sumed to take, of troubling you with what 1 find an un- 
seasonable visit. I humbly beg your pardon for the in- 
trusion. My apology is this: My worthy friend Dr. 
Brocklesby, who has honoured me so much as to desire 
my picture, and wished to have it painted by you, com- 
plained to me, yesterday, that he has been two years de- 
siring it without effect. I should be very insensible of 
this mark of his attention, and very undeserving of it, if 
I had not endeavoured, as far as in me lay, to obey his 
obliging commands. I have therefore several times, al- 
most in every week since he first spoke to me (except 
about two months when I was wholly in the country, 
without coming to town at all,) presented myself to you, 
that if you were not better engaged I might sit to you. 
You have always been so much employed, that you have 
required a day's previous notice of my intention, and for 
that reason declined to paint the picture at the times which 
suited me. It has been very unfortunate to me that my 
time too is so irregularly occupied, that I can never with 
certainty tell beforehand vvhen I shall be disengaged. No 
man can be more sensible of the insignificance of my oc- 
cupations, but to me they are of some importance, and the 
times of them certainly very irregular. I came to town 
upon very pressing business, at four on Thursday even- 
ing ; yesterday I had some hours upon my hands ; I 
waited upon you, but I found improperly. Contrary 



158 LIFE OF THE 

to my expectation, a gentleman, who was to go out of 
town with me this morning, delays till half an hour after 
four o'clock ; this gave me near five hours to dispose of, 
and which I was willing to give to my friend's wishes. 
I waited on you exactly at half an hour after eleven, and 
had thr ;.leasure of finding you at home ; but as usual, so 
employed as not to permit you to undertake tiiis disagree- 
able business. I have troubled you with this letter, as I 
think it necessary to make an excuse for so frequent and 
importunate intrusions. 

" Much as it might flatter my vanity to be painted by 
so eminent an artist, I assure you, that knowing 1 had no 
title to that honour, it was only in compliance with that 
desire (often repeated) of our common friend, that I have 
been so troublesome. You, who know the value of 
friendship, and the duties of it, I dare say, will have the 
goodness to excuse me on that plea. On no other should 
I deserve it, for intruding on you at other times than those 
you should please to order. Nobody, 1 flatter myself, re- 
gards that time more ; and pays, and has always paid, a 
more sincere (though a very unlearned) homage to your 
great talents and acquirements. I must once more re- 
peat my apology, hoping to obtain your pardon, on the 
usual plea of not committing the same fault again. I am, 
with the greatest respect and esteem, Sir, your most obe- 
dient, 

" And most faithful humble servant, 

•' Edmund Burke. 

" Saturday, July 9th, 1774." 

Barry, in reply, professed himself much vexed at the 
misunderstanding, and hurt, by what he considered the 
ironical air of the letter conveying it, adding that other 
artists required more notice than that for which he had 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 159 

asked. The rejoinder of Mr. Burke exhibits his usual 
force and felicity of expression. He disclaims any iron- 
ical feeling, but a sincere and warm admiration of his tal- 
ents ; that he had been five times painted in his life — 
twice in miniature, by Spencer and Sisson — thrice in 
large, by Worlidge and Sir Joshua Reynolds, neither of 
whom had required any previous notice — and that he 
was then, as opportunities offered, sitting to the latter at 
the earnest request of Mr. Thrale, for another portrait, 
upon the same conditions as to time ; and remarking that 
though being painted was one of the modes in which va- 
nity displayed itself, he mistook himself much if it were 
one of the fashions of that weakness in him. — This disa- 
greement, however, soon terminated ; the picture was 
painted and had the reputation of being an excellent like- 
ness. 

Shortly after this, Mr. Burke finding Barry busily at 
work, when he called, inquired the subject, and was told 
it was a bagatelle — Young Mercury inventing the lyre, 
by accidentally finding a tortoise shell at break of day, on 
the sea shore : " Aye," replied the orator, with his ac- 
customed promptitude, " that is the fruit of early rising, 
— there is the industrious boy ! I will give you a com- 
panion for it — paint Narcissus wasting his day, in looking 
at himself in a fountain — that will be the idle boy." 
The picture was accordingly painted — In the following 
year, the artist presented a copy of his Inquiry into the 
Real and Imaginary Obstructions to the Acquisitions of 
the Arts in England, to the same great critic, who return- 
ed a candid and favourable opinion, in a note, dated Janu- 
ary 15th, 1775, from the Broad Sanctuary. 

Among other friends who passed a short time at Gre- 
gories during the summer, were Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, 
and his old friend Dr. Johnson ; the latter after wander^ 



160 LIFE OF THE 

ing over the grounds in admiration, succeeded by a reve- 
rie, exclaimed — 

Non equidem invideo, miror magis. 

Which, by some, has been construed into a passinaf sha- 
dow of discontent, at the superiority of his friends fortune. 
Johnson, however, had little of envy about him ; and 
Burke nothing of the insolence of ordinary minds in pros- 
perity, to excite it. For though now the leader of Opposi- 
tion, the first by far in eloquence, second to none in public 
talents of any kind, high in fame, in confiilential connex- 
ion and friendship with the chief men of the country, dis- 
tinctions which operate on most men, they produced in 
him no alteration of manner. His table, society, and 
friendship, were as open to his less fortunate acquaintance 
as before. He had passed them by in the race of life, 
but did not neglect or despise because they were nearly 
lost in the distance. 

At the moment of parting, when the hospitable mas- 
ter of the mansion was setting out on election business, 
another supposed equivocal speech escaped from the 
moralist as he shook him cordially by the hand. — 
*' Farevvel, my dear Sir, and remember that I wish you, 
all the success which ought to be wished you, which can 
possibly be wished you indeed — by an honest man." 
There is nothing ambiguous in this; now and then, it is 
true, he seemed to think that an honest man could scarce- 
ly wish well to a Whig, but Mund, as he familiarly call- 
ed him, seldom came in for any share of this censure. — 
On the contrary, of his public exertions he said, " It 
was commonly observed he spoke too often in Parlia- 
ment, but nobody could say he did not speak well, but 
perhaps too frequently and sometimes too familiarly ; " 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. I6l 

but such must aluays be the case with a leader of Oppo- 
sition. Mr. Burke, with eqtial res^ard, defended J )hn- 
son's pension this session from the attack of his own par- 
ty in the House of Commons. 

These two remarkable men were perhaps the only per- 
sons of their age, who, in acquirements or in oriyjinal 
po\\ersof mind, could be compared with each other; 
they had been at first fellow labourers in the literary 
vine}ard; they had each ultimately risen to the highest 
eminence in diftercnt spheres; they preserved at all times 
sincere esteem for each other ; and were rivals only in 
gaining the admiration of their country. From the first, 
Burke seems to have p* ssessed a strong ambition of ris- 
ing in public life far above the range accessible to mere 
literature, or even to a profession, though that profession 
was the law. Johnson's views had never extended be- 
yond simple independence and literary fame. The one 
desired to govern men, the other to become the monarch 
of their books ; the one dived deeply into their political 
rights, the other into the matter of next importance among 
all nations — their authors, language, and letters. 

A strong cast of originality, }et with few points of re- 
semblance, distinguish not only their thoughts, but al- 
most their modes of thinking, and each has had the merit 
of founding a style of his ov\n, which it is difficult to imi- 
tate. Johnson, sfiemingly born a logician, impresses 
truth on the mind uith a scholastic, methodical, though 
commonly irresistible effect. More careless of arrange- 
ment, yet with not less power, Burke assumes a more 
popular manner, giving to his views more ingenuity, 
more novelty, more variety. The reasoning of the for- 
mer is marshalled with the exactness of a heraldic pro- 
cession, or the rank and file of an army, one in the rear 
of the other, according to their importance or power of 
X 



16s LIFK OF THE 

producing effect. The latter, disregarding such precise 
discipline, makes up in the incessant and unexpected na- 
ture of his assaults, what he vvants in more formal array ; 
we can anticipate Johnson's mode of attack, but not 
Burke's, for, careless of the order of battle of the schools, 
he charges at once front, flanks, and rear ; and his unwea- 
ried perseverance in returning to the combat on every 
accessible point, pretty commonly ensures the victory. 
The former argued like an academical teacher; the lat- 
ter like what he was and what nature had intended him for 
■—an orator. The labours of the former were addressed 
to the closet; of the latter, most frequently to a popular 
assembly, and each chose the mode best calculated for 
his purpose. 

Both were remarkable for subdety and vigour of rea- 
soning whenever the occasion required them. In copi- 
ousness and variety of language, adapted to every subject 
and to every capacity, Burke is generally admitted to j)os- 
sess the advantage ; in style he has less stiffness, less man- 
nerism, less seeming labour, and scarcely any affectation ; 
in perspicuity they are both admirable. Johnson had on 
the whole more erudition ; Burke inexhaustible powers of 
imagination. Johnson possessed a pungent, caustic wit ; 
Burke a more playful, sarcastic humour; in the exercise 
of which both were occasionally coarse enough. John- 
son, had his original pursuits inclined that way, would 
have made no ordinary politician ; Burke was confessedly 
a master in the science ; in the philosophy of it he is the 
first in the English language, or perhaps in any other ; 
and in the practice of it, during the long period of his pub- 
lic career, was second to none. Added to these were 
his splendid oratorical powers, to which Johnson had no 
pretension. With a latent hankering after abstractions, 
the one in logical, the other in metaphysical subtleties) 



KTGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. l63 

both harl the good sense utterly to discard them when 
treating of the |)ractical business of men. 

They were distinguished for possessing a very large 
share of general knowledge, accurate views of life, for so- 
cial and conversational powers instructive in no common 
degree — and in the instance of Johnson never excelled. 
They understood the heart of man and his springs of ac- 
tion perfectly, from their constant intercourse with every 
class of society. Conscientious and moral in private life, 
both were zealous in guarding from danger the establish- 
ed religion of their country ; and in the case of Burke, with 
the utmost liberality to every class of Dissenters. John- 
son's censures and aversions, even on trifling occasions, 
were sometimes marked by rudeness and ferocity ; Burke, 
with more amenity of manners, and regard to the forms 
of society, rarely permitted his natural ardour of feeling 
to hurry him into coarseness in private life, and on public 
occasions only where great interests were at stake and 
where delicacy was neither necessary nor deserved. 

Viewed in every light, both were men of vast powers 
of mind, such as are rarely seen, from whom no species 
of learning was hidden, and to whom scarcely any natu- 
ral gift had been denied ; who had grasped at all know- 
ledge with avaricious eagerness, and had proved them- 
selves not less able to acquire than qualified to use this 
intellectual wealth. None were more liberal in commu- 
nicating it to others, without that affectation of superiority, 
in Burke at least, which renders the acquisitions of pedants 
oppressive, and their intercourse repulsive. Whether 
learning, life, manners, politics, books, or men, was the 
subject — whether wisdom was to be taught at once by 
precept and example, or recreation promoted by amusing 
and instructive conversation — they were all to be enjoyed 
in the evening societies of these celebrated friends. As 



IB* LIFE OP THE 

a curious physical coincidence it may be remarked that 
both were near-si8;hted. 

A dissolution of Parliament occurrinsj in autumn, and 
a disagreement with Lord Verney renderinaj his return 
for VVendover unlikely, the Marquis of Rockingham 
offered Mr. Burke his interest in Malton, whither he pro- 
ceeded and was elected. 

While expressing his acknowledgments for this favour 
and on the point of sitting down to dinner, a deputation 
from the merchants of Bristol, who had travelled rapidly 
to London, and from London to Yorkshire, in search of 
him, arrived to propose his becoming a candidate for their 
city, or rather to accede to his nomination, which had been 
already made by the leading men there. This, to one 
who had shown less regard to popularity than prudence 
demanded, was an unexpected honour. The tender* 
hovACver, was too handsome to be refused; it was an 
offering solely to his public merits and commercial kno\\ - 
ledge, and the favour was enhanced by the promise of 
being returned free of expense, an essential consideration 
to a man of his confined fortune. 

Obtaining the ready assent of his Malton friends to this 
change of destination, he set off at six o'clock in the even- 
ing of Tuesday, and travelling night and day, arrived 
about half past two on Thursday, the 13th of October, 
and the sixth day of the poll, a distance then of about 
350 miles. He drove instantly to the house of the Mayor, 
but not finding him at home, proceeded to the Guildhall, 
where ascending the hustings and saluting the electors, 
sheriffs, and the other candidates, he reposed for a few 
minutes, being utterly exhausted by fatigue and want .,f 
sleep, and then addressed the citizens in a speech which 
met u ith great and general approbation. 

After a contest protracted to the last moment, he was 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 165 

ieturned on the third of November. In a powerful ad- 
dress of thanks, delivered on the occasion, he exhibited 
uhat many thought too rigid a det^ree of independence 
on being pressed as to whether he meant to vote in Par- 
liament according to his oun opinion, or to the wishes of 
his constituents. The question at such a moment was 
vexatious enough, for a negative might imply on his part 
something like ingratitude ; but above all evasion or tem- 
porising, he respectfully, though firmly, claimed the pri- 
vilege of following the dictates of his own conscience. 
His reasons, among the more reflecting class of politicians, 
have set the question for ever at rest ; no one has thought 
it necessary to add to them, or prudent to answer them ; 
though he complained at the moment of want of time and 
preparation for the discussion. 

" Certainly, gentlemen, it ought to be the happiness 
and glory of a representative, to live in the strictest union, 
the closest correspondence, and the most unreserved com- 
munication with his constituents. Their wishes ought 
to have great weight with him ; their opinion high re- 
spect ; their business unremitted attention. It is his duty 
to sacrifice his repose, his pleasures, his satisfactions to 
theirs ; and above all, ever, and in all cases, to prefer 
their interest to his own. But his unbiassed opinion, 
his mature judgment, his enlightened conscience, he 
ought not to sacrifice to you, to any man, or to any set of 
men living. These he does not derive from your plea- 
sure ; no, nor from the law and the constitution. They 
are a trust from Providence, for the abuse of which he is 
deeply answerable. Your representative owes you not 
his industry only, but his judgment ; and he betrays in- 
stead of serving you, if he sacrifices it to your opinion. 

" My worthy colleague says, his will ought to be sub- 
servient to yours. If that be all, the thing is innocent 



466 LIFE OP THE 

If government were a matter of will upon any side, yours 
w ithout question ought to be superior. But government 
and legislation are matters of reason and jnds^ment, and 
not of inclination ; and what sort of reason is that in which 
the determination precedes the discussion ; in which one 
set of men deliberate and another decide; and wheils those 
who form the conclusion are perhaps three hundred miles 
distant from those who hear the arguments? 

" To deliver an opinion is the right of all men; that of 
constituents is a weighty and respectable opinion, which 
a representative ought always to rejoice to hear ; and 
which he ought always most seriously to consider. But 
authoritative instructions ; 7nandates issued which the 
member is bound blindly and implicitly to obey, to vote, 
and to argue for, though contrary to the clearest convic- 
tion of his judgment and conscience ; these are things 
utterly unknown to the laws of this land, and which arise 
from a fundamental mistake of the whole order and tenour 
of our constitution. 

" Parliament is not a congress of ambassadors from dif- 
ferent and hostile states; whose interests each must main- 
tain as an agent and advocate against other agents and 
advocates ; but Parliament is a deliberative assembly of 
OTie nation with ojie interest, that of the whole ; where no^ 
local purposes, not local prejudices, ought to guide, but 
the general good, resulting from the general reason of 
the whole. You choose a member indeed; but when 
you have chosen him, he is not member of Bristol, but 
he is a member of Parliament. If the local constituent 
should have an interest, or should form an hasty opinion, 
evidently opposite to the real good of the rest of the com- 
munity, the member for that place ought to be as far as 
any other from any endeavour to give it effect." 

On another occasion (1780,) he told them— " I did 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. l67 

not obey your instructions : No. I conformed to the in- 
structions of truth and nature, and maintained your inter- 
est, against your opinions, with a constancy that became 
me. A representative worthy of you ought to be a per- 
son of stability. I am to look indeed to your opinions ; 
but to such opinions as you and I must look to five years 
hence. I was not to look at the flash of the day. I knew 
that you chose me, in my place, along with others, to be 
a pillar of the state, and not a weathercock on the top of 
the edifice, exalted for my levity and versatility, and of 
no use but to indicate the shiftings of every popular gale." 

These speeches being circulated through the country, 
an unusual thing with election speeches of that day, met 
with general applause. 

A ludicrous anecdote is recorded of his brother can- 
didate, Mr. Cruger, a merchant chiefly concerned in the 
American trade, who, at the conclusion of one of Mr. 
Burke's eloqyent harangues, finding nothing to add, or 
perhaps as he thought to add with effect, exclaimed 
earnestly in the language of the, -counting-house, " I say 
ditto to Mr. Burke — 1 say ditto to Mr. Burke.'' With 
such an example before him, however, he must have 
improved, for in the succeeding session he spoke on 
American business several times with suflicient spirit. 



168 LIFE OF THE 



CHAPTER VT. 



Parliamentary Business. — Anecdotes of Drs. Franklin^ 
Priest lei/, and Mr. Hartley. — Epitaph on Mr. Dowdes- 
xvell. — Letters to the Sheriffs and fxvo Gentlemen of 
Bristol. — To Lord Charlemont^ Barry, Mr. Francis^ 
Dr. Robertso7i. — Statue proposed in Dublin. — Admiral 
Keppel. 

It was the common lot of Mr. Burke, during much 
of his political life, to see fulfilled in the recess the pre- 
dictions he had made during the preceding session. So 
was it with the scheme for shutting up the port of Bos- 
ton, which more than realised his worst anticipations, 
by giving birth to that concentration of the most turbi- 
lent spirits of the colonies into a congress, where almost 
at their first meeting, and wholly unknown to their con- 
stituents, was laid the plan of total separation from the 
mother-country, ^^^rj^ <ic«.>ac^ /Cicu^ f^ 

A variety of petitions from the merchants and manu- 
facturers, deprecating hostilities, flowed into the House 
of Commons, which were strenuously though ineffectu- 
ally seconded by the Member for Bristol ; being referred, 
not to a political committee, as he wished, but to a com- 
mercial one which was wittily called by him, and after- 
wards generally knoun, as the Committee of Oblivion. 
For his exertions on these occasions, a handsome letter 
of thanks was forwarded to him, signed by fifteen of 
the principal merchants of Birmingham. 

Two more important, though indirect, tributes to his 
public wisdom appeared soon afterwards in the proceed- 
ings of the House of Lords : one in the declaratory act 
of 1766, said to be chiefly his, and censured then by 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. l69 

Lord Chatham, was now adopted by his Lordship as the 
groundwork of a plan which he brought forward to con- 
cih'ate America. The other respected the taxation of 
that country which Mr. Burke had so long ineffectually 
reprobated, when, on an incidental allusion to that mea- 
sure, Lords North, Mauhfield, Canriden, the Duke of 
Grafton, and others, all advisers of the Crown at the 
time it was adopted, now, to the surprise of the nation, 
utterly and angrily disclaimed having taken any part in 
advising it. The subsequent evidence of Mr. Penn, 
at the bar of the House of Lords, also seemed to imply, 
that America would have been quiet had things remained 
on the footing left by the Rockingham Administration. 
Undeterred by the failure of Lord Chatham, Mr. 
Burke introduced, on the 22d March, 1775, his thirteen 
celebrated propositions for conciliating America ; of the 
moral and physical character of which he had gained 
so perfect an acquaintance, that the sketch he then 
drew both of country and people, though fifty years have 
elapsed, is as fresh and accurate as any of the present 
day. It had been, as we have seen, an early subject for 
his pen ; his opinions had been formed respecting it, he 
expressly tells us, before he entered Parliament : it had 
been a constant subject of deliberation while he was 
there; and its importance induced him, favoured by his 
connexion with the country as colonial agent, to consult 
every source of information, written and oral, in order 
to become master of the points in dispute, and guided 
by circumstances, to point out the wisest policy for Eng- 
land to pursue. The case was different with the Minis- 
try, or rather the succession of Ministries, of the day, 
vho, flitting into and out of the Cabinet ike the transient 
ana shadowy figures of a magic lantern, had little time 



170 LIFE OF THii 

for maturing a plan, and scarcely for continuity of thought 
on the subject. 

His views at this time may be stated in a few words, 
as by some who even profess to write history, they are 
misrepresented or misunderstood. 

America was imperceptibly become a great country, 
without aiming at, or scarcely seeming to know it; form- 
ed for strength as some men are born to honours, by a 
decree beyond their own control ; that it was unwise to 
irritate her to exertion of this strength when her natural 
inclination was for peace and trade : that she might be 
influenced by mildness and persuasion, but would pro- 
bably resist command. 

He contended for the general supremacy of Parlia- 
ment and the imperial rights of the Crown as undoubted, 
though these should be exercised with great reserve 
over, not a colony, but a nation, situated at a great dis- 
tance, and difficult, if at all possible to coerce : that in 
compliance with the unanimous feeling of the people, 
all the internal details, especially that of taxation, should 
remain as hitherto, with their provincial assemblies : 
that a parliamentary revenue, such as aimed at, w as next 
to impossible ; that England had never enjoyed, and 
never would enjoy, a direct prodr.ctive re\enue from 
any colony, but at all events to trust for it rather to a olun- 
tary grants, as in Ireland, than to authoritative requisi- 
tions : that all harsh acts be repealed : that the colonies 
be placed on the same footing toward the mother- coun- 
try as in 1766; that a feeling of friendly concession 
alone could govern a people free in spirit and in fact, 
spread over a vast extent of country, and increasing at 
an unusual rate in numbers : that peace should be sought 
in the spirit of peace, not in severe parliamentary enact- 



UIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 17i 

ments, and quoted as examples of the success of lenient 
measures, the instances of Ireland, Wales, Chester, and 
Durham : that the right of taxation being relinquished, 
all moderate men would be conciliated : but if more 
than all these should be required, then it would be lime 
for us to turn round with a decided negative. 

The speech by which the propositions were recom- 
mended excited general admiration, and in power did 
not fall short of that of the preceding year. Mr. Fox, 
nearly 20 years afterwards, applying its views to Parlia- 
mentary Reform, said, " Let gentlemen read this speech 
by day and meditate upon it by night ; let them peruse 
it again and again, study it, imprint it on their minds, im- 
press it on their hearts — they would there learn that re- 
presentation was the sovereign remedy for every evil." 

Lord Erskine also, in a recent speech at Edinburgh, 
touching on the same theme, observed, *' It could only 
proceed from this cause (alleged corruption of Parlia- 
ment,) that the immortal orations of Burke against the 
American war did not produce as general conviction as 
they did unmingled admiration." This is certainly not 
correct; at least Mr. Birke himself, out of the heat of 
debate, assigned no such reason ; he candidly confessed, 
that the country gendemen wanted a partner in bearing 
the burden of taxation : the King wished to see obe- 
dient subjects rather than allies ; the body of the nation, 
as jealous of undisputed sovereignty as either, fully se- 
conded their views ; and the wisdom of the House of 
Commons alone put an end to the contest.* 

* The following, written on a sheet of foolscap, are believed 
to be either the original notes from which the speech was spoken, 
or drawn up by himself immediately afterwards, for the informa- 
tion of a friend, to be published on the spur of the moment, at 



17S LIFE OF THE 

Toward the close of the session, after three months al 
most daily discussion of American affairs, he presented 
a remonstrance from New York, hitherto a quiet and 

Bristol; the hand is larger than his usual writing, but it is evi- 
dently written in a great hurry, sometimes using the first, some- 
times the third person. 

ANALYSIS OF MR. BURKE'S SPEECH 

ON OFFERING HIS RESOLUTIONS. 

" Proem. 

" Apologizing for taking up this measure, stating his own 
description and situation with great humility, but when he stat- 
ed in general that (what :) he should propose was not his, but 
the reasoning and opinions of the Legislature already expressed 
by our ancestors in old times, were such and such as time had 
matured and experience contirmed, he had no apology to make, 
except for any disadvantage these sentiments might receive from 
the manner of delivering them. &c. &r.. &c. 

" He then mentioned the unhappy state of our quarrels with 
our colonies, which tould end only in the destruction of our con- 
stitution, and the ruin of the British Empire. That peace only 
could ensure the one, and restore the stability of the otiier; not 
an insiduous delusive peace that has sla\ery in its train, but 
peace founded on the establishment of the rights of mankind, and 
on civil liberty, as they are the basis of our empire. 

" Not peace by war — 
" nor by negotiation. 

" Not a peace to be bought by taxes, and bid for at an auc 
tion : 

" But by conciliation, and concession of the superior — con- 
ciliation having gone forth and entered into the heart of every 
Briton. The Minister has assumed the form of that angel of 
light, and breathes the spirit of conciliation. — Would to God it 
was the real spirit of it in good truth. — He hath been driven to 
the necessity of making concession, but hath been forced by 
same secret force or fatality, to load and clog his measures with 
principles and conditions, such as must render it impossible for 



RIGHT HON EDMUND BURKE. 1^3 

loyal colony, which met with the same reception from 
the Minister, as the other innumerable petitions and 
agents did from Lords, Commons, and Privy Council ; 

the Americans to accept it, and which must therefore in the end 
prove a plan to render them still more obnoxious to Parliament 
and Government here. 

" Leaving behind me and erasing from my mind every idea of 
Ministers and such persons, I will look only to the spirit and 
doctrines of your laws, and will seek no peace but where they 
teach us to look for it, and to follow it. 

" Let us not seek peace by force, but by conciliation. 

" l( con dilation he used ineffectually there will still i.be) room 
enough left for force; but if yb?'ce be first tried, and that shall 
prove to be used ineffectually, there will be no room for concili- 
ation. 

" The magnitude of the object should teach (us) to look to 
conciliation — and to know that force will not do. 

" View — 1. The wealth of the colonies. 

2. The number of the people. 

3. The principles which animate their spirit. 
Principles of liberty. 

Principles of religion. 
" View their character and temper — 

anYtheil^hlbks^^ ^' '^"^'^^^^ ^'"^"^ *'^^ "^^"''^ "^ ^•^^'^' P^' 
pular government — 

" Their turn for politics, amd their knowledge of such, as 
taught from their first entrance into life. 

" Consider next their vast distance — 

" Consider how even despotic governments are obliged to use 
management and address in the government of their distant pro- 
vinces. 

" If the acts of the opposition in the colonies cannot be pro- 
secuted criminally — 

" There is no way to settlp it by compromise. 

" On this subject of compromise I say nothing as to sove- 
reignty. 

" I omit the question as to the right of taxation, and will only 



iJAi LIFE OF THE 

few of them were received, and none deigned to be 
answ ered. 

In the mean time, the first blood was drawn at Lex- 
ington and Concord, followed by the fight of Bunker's 
Hill, the raising of regular armies, the appointment of 
General Washington as Commander-in-chief, and other 
consequent measures, which left the chance of accom- 
modation by any means a matter of doubt. 

speak to practise and fact as found in the precedents of your 
own conduct. 

" The practice of Parliament 
as to Ireland, 
Wales, 
Chester, 
Durham — 
" Following these precedents I would propose an American 
Representation — but the sea and distance are in my way. — As 
I cannot give the best, I will offer the next best — and that is — 
that which is already established — 

" Their own assemblies — 
" They are competent to all the purposes of taxation. 
" To lay the ground for that solid basis whereon I would again 
re-establish peace, and replace the empire and its government. — 
" OflFers six resolutions of facts. 



'•' Corollaries. 

1. That it may be proper to repeal the Tea Act. 

2. The Boston Port Bill. 

3. The Massachusetts Government Bill. 

4. The Military Bill. 

The original, in a soiled and tattered condition communicated 
and purchased as a genuine document, is in possegsion of Sir P, 
Phillips. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 170 

The rejection of all petitions, no doubt, tended much 
to the alienation of the public feeling in America ; in- 
creased, perhaps, by the severity shown to so popular a 
man as Dr. Franklin, before the Privy Council, the pre- 
ceding year, on the Massachusetts petition against the 
governor and deputy-governor of the province. Alluding 
to this affair, Mr. Burke, who was present, thus writes 
to the famous General Lee, February 1st, 1774 : " Wed- 
derburne uttered a furious philippic aejainst poor Dr. 
Franklin. It required all his philosophy, natural and 
acquired, to support him against it.'' 

On that occasion. Dr. Priestley, with whom he was 
acquainted, relates an anecdote to the following effect : — 
" Going along Parliament- street, on the morning of the 
29th of January, 1774, I met Mr. Burke and Dr. Dou- 
glas, Bishop of Salisbury, when the former introduced 
us to each other, as men of letters, and inquired whither 
I was going. I replied, I could say whither I wished to 
go; and on explaining that it was to the Privy Council, 
he desired me to accompany him. The ante-room 
proved to be so full of persons, on the same errand as 
ourselves, that I despaired even of getting near the door. 
*Keep fast hold of me,' said Mr. Burke, locking my 
arm within his, and forcing his way, after much diffi- 
culty, to the door. * You are an excellent leader, Mr, 
Burke.' * I wish others thought so too,' replied he. We 
got in among the first, Mr. Burke taking h<s stand be- 
hind the chair next to the President, and 1 next to him." 

Dr. Franklin, whom he had known for about 15 years, 
gave him, for so wary a politician, an unusual proof of 
esteem and confidence, by calling upon him in April of 
this year (1775,) the day previous to his finally quitting 
London, and opening his mind without seeming reserve. 
He looked to the approaching contest, he said, with the 



176 LIFE OF THt, 

most painful feeling's ; nothing could give him more sor- 
row than that separation between the mother- country 
and colonies, which now seemed inevitable, from the 
obstinate and unaccommodating temper of England ; 
adding that America had enjoyed many happy days un- 
der her rule, previous to this unhappy dispute, and might 
possibly never see such again. 

Among ourselves, dissensions ran high ; the old dis- 
tinctions of Whig and Tory vv^ere revived with all their 
original acrimony, and Mr. Burke, as the oracle of the 
former, came in for a large share of abuse ; — from Dean 
Tucker, who represented him as the most artful reasoner 
living, one who could amuse with tropes, and figures, 
and fine words, without allowing his design to be seen, 
till he had entrapped the hearer or reader irrecoverably 
in the meshes of his argument ; — from many others, who, 
admitting his extraordinary povvers, affected to consider 
them degraded by his becoming so determined a party 
man. 

Some, even of his friends, appeared to join in the latter 
opinion ; as if it were possible for any leading English 
statesman to be otherwise than a party man. He must 
of necessity, on first entering into public life, either form 
a party of his own, or attach himself to one of the two 
great divisions in the state ; and though the choice rests 
\\ ith himself, it is oftener. determined by the politics of 
his friends, or family connexions, especially among young 
men of rank. Should he profess perfect independence 
en all points, he wWl find little, or very hollow support 
in an assembly, where above all others some certain sup- 
port is necessary ; for without it he cannot even calcu- 
late on the humble merit of being merely useful, and 
certainly cannot become great. 

With a party he rises into consequence ; he has the 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 177 

advantapje of profitting by older heads, and equal, if not 
superior minds to his own ; and to use the language of 
Burke, on another occasion, " he who profits by an equal 
understanding, doubles the power of his ow n." No man 
jumps into Parliament an able statesman, no more than 
he can start at the bar, with his first brief, an accom- 
plished lawyer, or enter the field, with his ensign's com- 
mission, a finished soldier. He must first learn to sub- 
mit and to serve, and in tiiTie may hope to command. 
It is useless, therefore, to complain of a politician being 
a party man ; we may as \a ell complain that the indepen- 
dence of the limbs is sacrificed by being affixed to the 
body, w ithout remembering that it is union alone which 
makes either useful. 

Mr. Burke visited France again in the summer, re- 
turninfi- not more favourably impressed than before, with 
the character of her literati and philosophers. His father- 
in-law. Dr. Nugent, died in Suffijik street, in Novem- 
ber; a worthy and intelligent man, whom Dr. Johnson 
not only loved, but used to profess himself proud of the 
honour of standing high in his esteem ; he v\ as author 
of a new theory of Hydrophobia, and is often mistaken 
for another Dr. Nugent, a travelling tutor, who published 
his travels, a translation of Benvenuto Cellini, and other 
works. In December, he lost another friend and warm 
admirer in Admiral Sir Charles Saunders, pronouncing 
on the same evening, an animated apostrophe to his me- 
mory in the House of Commons. 

The coercive spirit manifested in the address at the 
opening of the session, brought him forvvard in a forcible 
appeal to the House to pause in measures of force; sup- 
plicating Ministry to assume some other tone than that 
of violence; not to let England come to the discussion;, 
Z 



178 LIFE OP THE 

like the irritated porcupine with its quills, armed all over 
with angry acts of Parliament, 

Several petitions from the clothiers of Wiltshire gave 
him the opportunity of proposing, on the 16th of Novem- 
ber, 1775, a new conciliatory scheme, grounded on the 
ilfodel of the Statute of Edward I. de tallagio non con- 
cedendo. 

Three plans, he said, were afloat for quieting America ; 
first, simple war, in order to a perfect conquest; second- 
ly, a mixture of v\ar and treaty; thirdly, the best, and in 
his opinion only practicable mode, peace founded on 
concession. Among other things he suggested the re- 
nunciation of taxation, the repeal of all obnoxious laws 
since 1766, a general amnesty, and recognition of the 
Congress, in order to a final adjustment of grievances ; a 
change in all these points, he would not conceal, neces- 
sarily involved a change in the Ministers who had brought 
the country into the dilemma. 

Of this speech, which occupied three hours and tv.enty 
minutes in the delivery, and was said by many who heard 
it to possess singular vigour and originality, embracing a 
vast compass of matter, British and American, only a 
poor abstract remains ; it brought forward all the talents 
of the House, in a spirit of emulative excellence, to the 
discussion; and the division was the strongest Opposi- 
tion had yet mustered on the American question, the 
numbers against the previous question being 105 to 210. 

Four days afterwards, the bill to prohibit ail intercourse 
with America, known by the name of the Starvation Plan, 
received his unqualified reprobation. Petitions from the 
West-India and Nova-Scotia merchants, stating their 
utter ruin to be the consequence of it, were so cavalierly 
treated, that he moved an ironical resolution, in substance 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 179 

that the House knowing all things relative to America, 
required no further information. On some large votes 
for the army extraordinaries, he remarked, that fasting 
might as well be recommendrd to a body of aldermen at 
a city-feast, as economy to a committee of supply. Mr. 
Wilke's motion for Reform he opposed ; a humane mea- 
sure of his own, for saving from depredation seamen and 
vessels wrecked, failed; as did another conciliatory 
scheme for America, which he supported, proposed by 
Mr. David Hartley. 

This gendeman, a representative for Hull, a very ho- 
nest man, a sound Whig, an indefatigable politician, was 
a long-winded and heavy orator; so dull, indeed, that the 
period of his rising often became a signal to desert the 
benches. Having some time after this thinned a full 
house down to a few dozens, he unexpectedly called for 
the Riot Act to be read, to support or explain something 
in the march of his argument. Mr. Burke, who sat near 
him, and had anxiously waited to speak to the question, 
could contain himself no longer, but jumping up, gave 
vent to his impatience by an irresistibly comic remon- 
strance, that drew peals of laughter from all present, and 
which Lord North afterward used to repeat, as one of the 
happiest instances of wit he ever heard. — " The Riot Act! 
my dear friend, the Riot Act! to what purpose? don't 
you see that the mob is completely dispersed?" 

That conciliary measures were not altogether hopeless, 
notwithstanding the unceasing acts of Congress to inflame 
the mind of that country, may be inferred from the diffi- 
culty, one of the most curious facts in modern history, 
with which the declaration of Independence, in July of 
this year, was carried in that assembly itself. Six states 
voted for, six against that measure ; and the delegates of 
Pennsylvania were equally divided, when at length a 




180 LIF 

member, who had hitherto strenuously opposed it, sud- 
denly changed sides, and decided the question. This 
hesitation among a body to avow in form what they were 
in fact — which had raised armies, fought batdes, levied 
imposts, and resisted the mother country by vote, injunc- 
tion, proclamation, and every other possible mode, is a 
proof that the passions of moderate men, excited by the 
arts of the more designing, shrunk from the ultimate 
consequences of their own violence. J It is an equal proof 
that the conduct of the English Ministry was utterly de- 
ficient in wisdom, moderation, and addre ss; for otherwise 
scales so nicely poised must have turned in favour of their 
country. 

Some letters in the newspapers this summer, under 
the signature of Valens, have been attributed to Mr. 
Burke, though they were really written by William 
Bourke, who, though he spoke occasionally between 
1768 and 1774, found himself more at home in wielding 
his pen than his tongue. 

Edmund seemed rather to seek relief from all political 
wrangling except what the House of Commons required, 
in the literary society of which he was always so fond. 
Mr. Arthur Young, going on his well-known tour through 
Ireland, received from him the following letter of intro- 
duction to Lord Charlemont, remarkable for its elegance 
of expression, and for some of the sentiments on matters 
connected with the war. 

" Westminster, June 4th, 1776. 
* \-Y DEAR Lord, 
*' Permit me to make Mr. Young acquainted with 
you. To his works and his reputation you can be no 
stranger. I may add, that in conversing with this gen- 
tleman, you will fi id that he is, very far from having ex- 
hausted his stock of useful and pleasing ideas in the nu- 



•y^ 0- 



d-^rv^^/^^^ 1^^^ 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 181 

merous publications with which he has favoured the 
world. He goes into our country to learn, if any thing 
valuable can be learned, concerning the state of agricul- 
ture, and to communicate his knowledge to such gentle- 
men as wish to improve their estates by such methods of 
enlightened culture, as none but people of good fortune 
can employ, especially in the beginning. But examples 
may be given that hereafter will be useful, when you can 
prevail on yourselves to let the body of your people into 
an interest in the prosperity of their country. Your Lord- 
ship will think it odd, that I can conclude a letter to you 
without saying a word on the state of public affairs. But 
what can I say that will be pleasing to a mind formed like 
yours ? Ireland has missed the most glorious opportu- 
nity ever indulged by Heaven to a subordinate state — 
that of being the safe and certain mediator in the quar- 
rels of a great empire. She has chosen, instead of being 
the arbiter of peace, to be a feeble party in the war waged 
against the principle of her own liberties. Btit I beg 
pardon for censuring, or seeming to censure, what I per- 
haps so little comprehend. It certainly is much above 
me. Here we are, as we are. We have our little dejec- 
tions for disappointments, our little triumphs for advan- 
tages, our little palliatives for disgraces, in a contest that 
no good fortune can make less than ruinous. I return to 
Mr. Young, whom I am sure you will receive with the 
hospitality which you always show to men of merit. Mrs. 
Burke joins me in our best compliments to Lady Charle- 
mont. Your Lordship, I trust, believes that I have the 
most affectionate concern in whatever relates to your hap- 
piness, and that I have the honour to be ever, my dear 
Lord, Your most faithful and 

Obliged humble servant, 

Edmund Burke.'" 



18S LIFE OF THE 

At a literary dinner party at Sir Joshua Heynolds^s 
about this time, Johnson's epitaph on Goldsmith became 
the subject of conversation ; and it being agreed that an 
English wtis more approbriate than the Latin one, as well 
as more consonant to the wish of the deceased, Mr. Burke 
drew up off-hand the round-robin, so much noticed by 
Boswell ; and in the delicate terms in which it was 
couched, indicated his reverence for the great moralist, 
who in return sometimes showed more delicacy to his 
feelings than he did to those of any other person — " I 
would not (said he) talk to *Mund against the Rocking- 
ham party." 

He would not, however, alter the epitaph. Mr. Burke 
conceived the vernacular language of a country to be the 
most fitting for mortuary inscriptions, as though possibly 
not so durable as the Latin, yet sufficiently so to be intel- 
ligible as long as it was likely to be preserved, with the 
advantage of being universally understood ; the Greeks 
used no Latin, and the Latins no Greek inscriptions. His 
own practice accorded with this opinion; that on Lord 
Rockingham, and the character of Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
are admirable ; it is also said he wrote one for Lord Chat- 
bam. The following, written about this time, upon an 
intimate political friend, is in Bushley Church, Worcester- 
shire ; few know it to be his, never having been published 
in any work relating to him ; and though not unworthy 
of his pen, it is more deficient in that force and condensa- 
tion which distintiuish the others alluded to : 

To the Memory of 
WILLIAM DOWDESWELL, 

Representative in Parliament for the County 

of Worcester, 

Chancellor of the Exchequer in the years 

1765 and 1766, and a Member of the 

King's Privy Council; 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 183 

A Senator for twenty years ; 
A Minister for one ; 
A virtuous citizen for his whole life ; 
A man of unshaken constancy, inflexible integrity, 
unremitted industry. 
His mind was generous, open, sincere. 
His manners plain, simple, and noble ; 
Rejecting all sorts of duplicity and disguise 
as useless to his designs, and odious 
to his nature. 
His understanding 
was comprehensive, steady, vigorous, 
made for the practical business of the State. 
In debate he was clear, natural, and convincing. 
His knowledge in all things which con- 
cerned his duty, profound. 
He understood beyond any man of his time 
the revenues of his country; 
which he preferred to every thing — 
except its liberties. 
He was a perfect master of the law of Parliament, 
And attached to its privileges until they 
were set up against the rights of the 
people. 
All the proceedings 
which have weakened government, endangered 
freedom, and distracted the 
British Empire, were by him 

strenuously opposed ; » 

And his last efforts, 
under which his health sunk, 
were to preserve his country from a civil 

war, 
which, being unable to prevent, he had 
not the misfortune to see. 
He was not more respectable on the public 
scene 
than amiable in private life. 
Immersed in the greatest affairs, 
he never lost the ancient, native, genuine 
English character of a Country Gentle- 
man. 
Disdaining and neglecting no office in life, 
he was an ancient municipal Magistrate, 
With great care and clear judgment 
administering justice, maintaining the 



18-Jt LIFE OP THE 

police, relieving the distresses, and 
regulating the manners, of the 
people in his neighbour- 
hood. 
An husband and father 
the kindest, gentlest, most indulgent. 
He was every thing in his family except 
what he gave up to his country. 

His widow, who labours with life in order to form the minds 
of his eleven children to the resemblance of their father, erects 
this monument. 

The tenor of the Address (1776-77,) and a motion re- 
specting a proclamation of General Howe at New York, 
drew from Mr. Burke, in an animated address, some 
intemperate remarks ; for which the great interests at 
stake, and the decided^onviction of our whole system of 
policy being wrong, forms the best apology. 

Towards Christmas, a resolution was taken by the 
Rockingham party to secede from Parliament on all ques- 
tions connected with America, utter silence being in their 
opinion the next best step to disregarded admonition. An 
Address to his Majesty, explanatory of their views and 
reasons, to be presented in form by the leading members 
of both Houses, and another of similar tenor to the colo- 
nies, were drawn up by Mr. Burke, and appear in his 
Works ; the former a bold, and dignified, and elaborate 
paper ; the latter perhaps not quite so good. 

It is pretty certain the design did not originate with 
him ; but when applied to for his sentiments, he, in a let- 
ter to the Marquis of Rockingham, dated Jam.ary 6th, 
1777, seems to approve of it fully. Yet at the same 
time the objections are so fully and ably stated, with so 
clear a foresight of all the probable consequences, remote 
and immediate, and the little hope of its effectual accom- 
plishment, from the clashing interests and feelings of the 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE, 185 

minority, that the reader is impelled to a directly opp(^site 
conclubion to that of the writer. So hought the Mar- 
quis. F.>r after the receipt of this letter, the interview 
\vith the King, the delivery of the memorial, and the at- 
tempt at jjeneral secession such as at first contemplated, 
were abandoned. 

That such a decisive measure never can be proper un- 
der any circumstances, is perhaps saying too much. That 
it should be often resorted to, or in any case but formida- 
ble and pressing necessity, and the most obvious folly on 
the part of the majority, can only indicate more of anger 
than of wisdom. The crisis was certainly one of the 
most momentous ever experienced by the country ; yet 
to secede under such circumstances, was not to meet, 
but to fly from the danger ; and in the then temper of the 
nation, would have only drawn disapprobation from one 
half of the people, and ridicule from the other. Persua= 
sion may in time do much, but silence can make few con= 
verts ; to desert the field is not the way to subdue the 
enemy. Frequent failure in opposing what he mav think 
the worst policy, and in accomplishing his own incest con- 
scientious designs, are natural conditions in the existence 
of a Member of Parliament, for which he who does not 
come prepared has not adequately considered the obliga- 
tions of the office. 

A leader of Opposition indeed may imagine that in de= 
bating, he is only playing the game of the Minister, by 
throwing out hints from which the latter so far profits as 
to prolong his power. It is also extremely discouraging 
to be constantly out voted, when possibly not out-argued; 
to spend time and breath, " to watch, fast, and sweat, 
night alter night," as Mr. Burke himself forcibly expresses 
it, in the forlorn hope of constant minorities. No person 
felt this more than himself; yet none has more ably stated 
A a 



186 LIFE OF THE 

the necessity, and even the advantages resulting to the 
country and to the individual from a well-directed oppo- 
sition, in a conversation with Sir Joshua Reynolds re- 
corded by Bosvvell in his Life of Johnson. 

His position at this time with those who supported the 
war was somewhat peculiar, though to a public man not 
unexpected. He had been long bitterly reviled as the 
factious though eloquent advocate of rebellious America; 
and he was now, for such is political hostility, almost 
equally abused for preserving on the same subject what 
was termed a factious silence. And occasionally Lord 
Rockingham was as much sneered at for being directed 
by an Irish Secretary, as the King had recently been 
abused for being under the influence of a Scotch favourite. 

To explain more at large to his constituents his reasons 
for seceding, and general views on American matters, he 
drew up and published in April, 1777, the famous " Let- 
ter to the Sheriffs of Bristol," one of his best pamphlets, 
containing some fine and just thoughts on our policy; 
condemning, by allusion, the speculations of Dr. Price, 
which went to destroy all authority, as well as of those 
who fell into the other extreme of enforcing it beyond 
due discretion; and couched in a warmer strain than he 
had hitherto employed against the authors of the . ar. 
The following solemn warning is only one among many 
instances of the prophetic spirit he displayed in this as in 
most other great questions : 

" I think I know America. If I do not, my ignorance 
is incurable, for I have spared no pains to understand it; 
and I do most solemnly assure thooe of my constituents 
who put any sort of confidence in my industry and inte- 
grity, that every tiunj;; that has been done there has arisen 
from a tjtal misconception of the object; that our means 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 18/ 

of originally holding America, that our means of recon- 
ciling with it after a quarrel, of recovering it after sepa- 
ration, of keeping it after victory, did depend, and must 
depend, in their several stages and periods, upon a total 
renunciation of that unconditional submission which has 
taken such possession of the minds of violent men.'^ 

A reply to this came from the eccentric Earl of Abing- 
don, also a member of Opposition, who, educated at 
Geneva, had caught the spirit of the democratical prin- 
ciples of that state with more zeal than discretion, and 
who is said to have made a present to Congress of an 
estate which he possessed in America. In the House of 
Lords he had little weight; in the press he made a still 
worse figure against such an opponent; the latter did not 
deign to reply, — a mark of contempt which nettled his 
Lordship not a little,— though an anonymous writer as- 
sailed him with considerable powers of ridicule. 

In the midst of this political bustle, a claim was also 
made upon his opinion in a matter of taste. That ex- 
traordinary character Barry, who possessed neither time 
that he could justly spare, nor wealth to support him in 
its progress (having at its commencement something less 
than a guinea in the world that he could call his own,) 
had undertaken to decorate the great room of the Sf)ciety 
of Arts with paintings gratuitously, and now solicited 
Mr. Burke to communicate his ideas on the most appro- 
priate designs. From the following answer to this appli- 
cation, there is perhaps little doubt that whatever merit 
there be in those great works, some portion of it is due 
to him; the remark of Dr. Johnson when he saw them in 
1783, being, " Whatever the hand may have done, the 
mind has done its part. There is a grasp of mind there 
which you will find no where else.'' 



188 LIFE OF THE 

" TO JAMES BARRY, ES(^. 

*' Mr. Biirke presents his best compliments to Mr. 
Barry, and bet^s pardon for making use of another's hand 
in givini^ him his thanks for the ajreat honour he has done 
him by inscribing to him the print of Job; as well as for 
the prints sent to his son Richard of the other five designs : 
but being obliged to go out in great haste, after having 
been engaged in business for the whole morning, he is 
under the necessity of dictating this note while he is 
dressing. 

" Mr. Barry does him too much honour in thinking 
him capable of giving him any hints towards the conduct 
of the great design in which Mr. Burke is very happy to 
find he is engaged. Mr. Burke is, without any affecta- 
tion, thoroughly convinced that he has no skill whatso- 
ever in the art of painting; but he will very cheerfully 
turn his thoughts towards recollecting passages of modern 
or middle history, relative to the cultivation of the arts 
and manufactures; and Mr. Barry will judge better than 
he can, whether they are such as will answer his purpose. 

" Mr. Burke will have the pleasure of waiting on Mr. 
Barry, to communicate to him what occurs to him on 
the subject, at his first leisure moment.'' 

The debts of the Civil List, and an increase of its 
annual amount, brought Mr. Burke forward again, se- 
verely censuring the wastefulness of Ministry; and his 
interposition, in a happy mixture of argument and irony, 
saved Alderman Sawbridge, whose language was inde- 
corous and disrespectful towards his Majesty, from 
public reproof. 

Another opponent was soon afterwards silenced by his 
wit. During one of the debates on Lord Pigot's recall 
from Madras, he had twice given way to other speakers, 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 189 

when observing the chairman of the India Company pro- 
ceeding to read a variety of well-known public papers 
instead of adducing any new arguments, he interrupted 
him by observing, *' That if it uere the object of the ho- 
nourable member to tire and thin the House by reading 
all the heavy folios on the table, he supposed in courtesy 
he must submit; but to prepare for the task, he begged 
leave to send for his night-cap;" which producing general 
laughter, was followed by a shout of — goon! goon! 
The hint of the night-cap, however, has been so far im- 
proved upon by a mob- orator of the present day, as to 
have been actually produced by way of threat, in order 
to gain attention from indignant and impatient auditors. 

On the discussion of this subject in a masterly way, 
the treatment of Lord Pigot by the contradictory votes 
of the India proprietors, he was cheered in an unpre- 
cedented manner, exciting, in the language of contem- 
porary writers, " such sudden and extraordinary bursts 
of approbation as were not warranted by the usual prac- 
tice of the House," and which in return produced some 
sharp animadversions from the other side, *' that the wit 
displayed in turning the Company's late resolutions and 
conduct into ridicule, was as ill-placed and as improperly 
applied, as the theatrical applause which it produced was 
irregular and indecent." 

It was on this question that he first threw out doubts 
on the conduct of Mr. Hastings ; partly through commu- 
nications from the Pigot family, which he knew ; partly 
from other friends resident in India, among whom was 
the late Sir Philip Francis, a man of superior talents, in- 
dependent mind, and an abhorrence of any thing resem- 
bling oppression, litde inferior to that of Mr. Burke him- 
self. To this gentleman, with whom he had been early 
acquainted, he wrote a letter, of which the following is an 



190 LIFE OP THE 

extract, on the risin^ of Parliament, strenuously reconn- 
mending to his good offices his old friend and associate 
William Boi.rke, then proceeding to India to better his 
fortune. This gentleman soon became Agent to the Ra- 
jah of Tanjcjre, and afteru ^rds Deputy Paymaster-Gene- 
ral for India, supplying Edmund, it is said, with much 
and minute information respecting that country. 

" Westminster, 9th of June, 1777". 
" My dear Sir, 

" Our common friend, John Bourke, informs me that 
you still retain that kindness uhich you were so good to 
express towards me before you left London. This wide 
disconnected empire will frequendy disperse those who 
are dear to one another ; but, if this dispersion of their 
persons does not loosen their regards, it every now and 
then gives such unexpected opportunities of meeting, as 
almost compensate the pain of separation, and furnishes 
means of kind offices, and mutual services, which make 
even absence and distance the causes of new endearment 
and continued remembrance. 

" These thoughts occur to me too naturally as my only 
comforts in parting with a friend, whom I have tenderly 
loved, highly valued, and continually lived with, in an 
union not to be expressed, quite since our boyish years. 
Indemnify me, my dear Sir, as well as you can, for such 
a loss, by contributing to the fortune of my friend. Bring 
him home with you and at his ease, under the protection 
of your opulence. You know what his situation has 
been, and what things he might have surely kept, and 
infinitely increased, if he had not had those feelings which 
make a man worthy of fortune. Remember that he asks 
those favours which nothing but his sense of honour pre- 
vented his having it in his power to bestow. This will 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 191 

be a powerful recommendation to a heart like yours. Let 
Bengal protect a spirit and rectitude which are no longer 
tolerated in England. 

" I do not know, indeed, that he will visit your king- 
dom ; but, if he should, I trust he will find a friend there 
whose manner of serving him will not be in the style of 
those who acquit themselves of a burthen. Mr. Bourke's 
first views, indeed, are at Madras ; but all India is now 
closely connected ; and your influence and power are such, 
that you may serve him materially even there. I will 
not wrong your friendship by pressing this matter any fur- 
ther, but it is indeed near to my heart. 

" I say nothing of your eastern politics. The affairs 
of America, which are as important, and more distracted, 
have almost entirely engrossed the attention which I am 

able to give to any thing France gives all the 

assistance to the colonies which is consistent with the ap- 
pearance of neutrality. Time is to show whether she 
will proceed further, or whether America can maintain 
herself in the present struggle, without a more open de- 
claration, and more decided effort from that power. At 
present the Ministers seem confident that France is re- 
solved to be quiet. If the Court of Versailles be so pa- 
cific, I assure you it is in defiance of the wishes and 
opinions of that whole nation." 

At home, Mr. Burke's son, a promising young man, 
failed in a trial for academical distinction at Oxford, in a 
theme admirably adapted to the depth and discrimination 
of the powers of the father, *' The Origin and Use of 
Printing." To Mr. Fox, who, with Lord John I'owns- 
hend, spent the summer in Ireland, he wrote a confiden- 
tial and interesting letter, in October, on the state of par- 
ties, giving the most friendly and disinterested advice on 
the best line of public conduct for him to pursue. 



19S LIFE OP THE 

A present from Dr. Robertson, of his History of Ame- 
rica, then recently published, drew from Mr. Burke an 
interesting letter, critical and complimentary, and espe- 
cially alluding to his own favourite study of human nature, 
the most useful of all studies. 

"• I am perfectly sensible of the very flattering distinc- 
tion I have received in your thinking me vvorihy of so 
noble a present as that of your History of America. I 
have, however, suffered my gratitude to lie under some 
suspicion, by delaying my acknowledgments of so great 
a favour. But my delay was only to render my obliga- 
tion to you more complete, and my thanks, if possible, 
more merited. The close of the session brought a great 
deal of troublesome though not important business on me 
at once. I could not go through your work at one breath 
at that time, though I have done it since. 

" I am now enabled to thank you, not only for the hon- 
our you have done me, but for the great satisfaction and 
the infinite.variety and compass of instruction I have re- 
ceived from your incomparable work. Every thing has 
been done which was so naturally to be expected from the 
author of the History of Scotland, and of the age of 
Charles the Fifth. I believe few books have done more 
than this towards clearing up dark points, correcting er- 
rors, and removing prejudices. You have too the rare 
secret of rekindling an interest on subjects that had so 
often been treated, and in which any thing that could 
feed a vital flame appeared to have been consumed. I 
am sure I read many parts of your history with that fresh 
concern and anxiety which attend those v\ ho are not pre- 
viously apprised of the event. You have besides thrown 
quite a new light on the present state of the Spanish pro- 
vinces, and furnished both materials and hints for a ra- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 193 

lional theory of what may be expected from them in 
future. 

" The part which I read with the e;reatest pleasure, is 
the discussion on the manners and character of the inha- 
bitants of that new world. I have always thought with 
you, that we possess at this time very great advantage 
towards the knowledge of human nature. We need no 
longer go to history to trace it in all stages and periods. 
History from its comparative youth, is but a poor instruc- 
tor. When the Egyptians called the Greeks children in 
antiquities, we may well call them children; and so we 
may call all those nations which were able to trace the 
progress of society only within their own limits. But 
now the great map of mankind is unrolled at once, and 
there is no state or gradation of barbarism, and no mode 
of refinement which we have not at the same moment 
under our view ; the very different civility of Europe and 
of China; the barbarism of Persia and of Abyssinia; the 
erratic manners of Tartary and Arabia; the savage of 
North America and of New Zealand. Indeed you have 
made a noble use of the advantages you have had. You 
have employed philosophy to judge on manners, and 
from manners you have drawn new resources for philo- 
sophy. I only think that in one or two points you have 
hardly done justice to the savage character. 

'* There remains before you a great field. Periculosae 
plenum opus alea tractas^ et incedis per ignes suppositos 
cineri cloloso. VV henever these ashes will be spread over 
the present fire, God knov\s. I am heartily sorry that 
we are now supplying you with that kind of dignity and 
concern which is purchased to history at the exj)ense of 
mankind. I had rather by far that Dr. Robertson's pen 
were only employed in delineating the humble scenes of 
political economy, than the great events of a civil war, 
B b 



194 LIFE OF THE 

If our statesmen had read the book of human nature 
instead of the journals of the House of Commons, and 
history instead of acts of parhament, we should not by 
the latter have furnished out so ample a page for the 
former." 

Robertson, whom he had known for many years, was 
with him a favourite writer of history. Not so Gibbon; 
on whose first volume appearing, the preceding year, 
he called on Sir Joshua Reynolds a day or two afterwards, 
and, in the hearing of Mr. Northcote, pronounced the 
style vicious and affected, savouring too much of literary 
tinsel and frippery; a sentence which all the best judges 
have since confirmed. 

The next session, 1778, brought back the seceders 
of Opposition to the performance of their public duties. 
Those of Mr. Burke, who grasped the labouring oar as 
his particular province, were this year unusually diversi- 
fied and fatiguing. His seat at least was not a sinecure; 
whatever else he spared, he never spared himself; he 
seemed often to be trying the experiment, what compass 
of political interests and business it was possible for the 
human mind to embrace and retain ; what degree of la- 
bour in expounding them to endure : a few of the leading 
points, as in all the other sessions, are alone necessary to 
be alluded to here. 

On the 6th of February he introduced a motion for 
papers relative to the employment of the Indians in the 
war, by a speech three hours and a half long, which ex- 
cited not only extraordinary testimonies of admiration, 
but was considered by all who heard him the very best 
he had ever delivered. The theme, as connected with 
the interests of humanity, possessed much interest, and 
in itself was peculiarly fitted to display some of his most 
popular qualities as a speaker. Strangers being excluded 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 195 

from the gallery, no tolerable report, or even abstract of" 
it, has ever been published or perhaps preserved. The 
pathetic episode, however, of Miss Macrae, a young lady 
betrothed to a British officer, and entrusted to two Indians 
to convey her to a place of safety, but who, quarrelUng 
by the road about the division of the expected quantity 
of rum promised as their reward, savagely murdered her 
at once to end the dispute, was so vividly painted as to 
excite an emotion of abhorrence against such auxiliaries 
throughout the country. 

Heated by the powers of the speaker. Colonel Barre, 
in a fit of enthusiasm, offered to nail the speech, if pub- 
lished, on every church door in the kingdom by the side 
of the proclamation for a general fast. Governor John- 
stone thought it fortunate for the two noble lords (North 
and Germaine) that there were no strangers present, or 
their enthusiasm and indignation would have excited the 
people to tear them to pieces on their way home. Sir 
George Saville said to many of his friends, " he wlio did 
not hear that speech, has not witnessed the greatest tri- 
umph of eloquence within memory." 
[^fter all, it may be doubted whether this was not a 
party question. Congress would have engap;ed these 
allies if England had not; and Lnrd Chatham, though 
venting a torrent of indignation on the same side, in the 
House of Lords, could not disprove that they were em- 
ployed under his own administration. 1 

Eleven days afterwards another tacit tribute to the 
wisdom of Mr. Burke's advice appeared in a conciliatory 
plan of Lord North, taken chiefly from thiit proposed by 
the former three years before; it was supported bv the 
same arguments, and Mr. Fox congratulated his lordship 
on at length becoming a proselyte to the cjoctrines of his 
honourable friend. The lime, however, was gone by in 



196 LIFE OF THE 

which it could have effect. His Lordship, thouj^h a man 
of talent and personal inte<2;vity, wanted enlartijement of 
mind for the circumstances in which he was placed; as a 
minister he was too often a long march in the rear of 
events; his remedial measures came when they were 
forced, not voluntarily proffered; he could foresee little 
till it pressed upon him ^\ ith overpowering; necessity. 

America now u ould accept nothins^ short of indepen- 
dence, and the junction of France, for which the Minister 
seemed equally unprepared, though often dinned in his 
ears bv the member for Bristol, seemed to render it cer- 
tain. Under this impression it became a question whe- 
ther to acknowledge the iiidependence of that country at 
once, and by that means secure commercial preferences; 
an alliance offensive and defensive, and other advantages 
accruing from the kindly feelings produced by this con- 
cession and our remaining influence and old connexion, 
or, by persisting in what appeared unattainable, not only 
lose them ourselves but throw them into the scale of 
France, our constant and watchful enemy. 

To the former as an unavoidable result, Mr. Burke, 
after much deliberation, inclined. Lord Chatham as 
strenuously opposed it ; declaring that, the independence 
of America once acknowledged, the sun of England was 
set for ever, and, in urj^ing this sentiment in the House 
of Lords, was seized with that illness which terminated 
in his death. — Deficient in many respects, he was never- 
theless the greatest war Minister this country ever had. 
But he was no prophet ; time, which has belied his pre- 
diction, has shown the superior judgment of the leader 
of the Roc kingham party. The latter, on the death of 
this great man being announced, immediately urged in 
his place the necessity for the nation showing its sense 
of his services by a provision for his family, in addition 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 197 

to posthumous honours. He was also one of the pall- 
bearers at the funeral. 

A proposition by Lord Nui^ent to revise a series of 
oppressive restrictions on the trade of Ireland naturally 
claimed the serious consideration and support of Mr. 
Burke. His great effort was in a speech on the 6th of 
May, exhibitinj^ a more comprehensive, yet practical 
view of the commercial condition, intercourse, interests, 
and capabilities of the kino;doms, contrasiin^j their com- 
parative advantages and defects, than had ever been given 
there before. The grievance being undeniable, both 
sides of the House agreed at once to the remedy, when 
suddenly a number of hostile petitions pouring in from 
the trading and manufacturing towns, diverted the Mi- 
nister from his purpose ; thus a narrow and selfish sys- 
tem of policy had already driven America into revolt, yet 
the very same policy again risked the loss of Ireland. 

Bristol taking a conspicuous part in the endeavour to 
repress the industry of the sister island, called upon her 
representative to support her views. The dilemma 
could not be otherwise than unpleasant to him. But re- 
garding principle above every consideration of prudence, 
he manfully avowed, that to comply with this desire, 
would be to sin against his conscience, against the first, 
principles of justice, against the general prosperity of the 
empire, and, however his constituents might think, 
against the truest interests of trade itself. — 

" If, from this conduct," said he, " I shall forfeit their 
suffrages at an ensuing election, it will stand on record 
an example to future representatives of the Commons of 
England, that one man at least had dared to resist the 
desires of his constituents, when his judgment assured 
him they were wrong." 

To state his reasons more fully for declining compli- 



198 LIFE OF THE 

ance with their request, he wrote in April and May, 
1778, * Two Letters to Gentlemen of Bristol on the Bills 
relative to the Trade of Ireland.' These expound, in 
a few touches some of the chief principles of commerce, 
such as the advantage of freedom of intercourse between 
all parts of the same kingdom ; of reciprocity of benefits; 
of the evils of restriction and monopoly ; of the advan- 
tas;e to ourselves of all our customers, particularly our 
fellow subjects, being rich rather than poor; and that the 
gain of others is not necessarily our loss, but, on the con- 
trary, an advantage. Political economists consider these 
truths the mere alphabet of their art, while merchants, if 
they do not deny them in theory, can rarely be brought 
to approve many of them in practice. Exclusions and 
restrictions, the depression of one body of individuals 
or district of country to exalt another, belong almost as 
much to their system as the invoice and ledger. His ar- 
guments, which were then in a great degree new, produ- 
ced litde effect ; the people of Bristol could not be con- 
vinced there was equity or policy in giving a free trade to 
Ireland ; his determination, however, continued unchang- 
ed, adding-—" While I remain under this unalterable and 
powerful conviction, you will not wonder at the decided 
part I take. It is my custom so to do when I see my 
way clearly before me ; and when I know that I am not 
misled by any passion, or any personal interest, which, in 
this case, I am very sure I am not." 

Another offence in the eyes of his constituents was in 
vigorously supporting Sir George Saville's Bill for the 
Relief of the Roman Catholics, then much oppressed by 
the severity of the laws. It was in fact believed among 
his friends, like many other bills brought forward by 
others, to be wholly his own, though not formally avow- 
edj in order to avoid popular odium; its justice was im- 



RIGHT HOK. EDMUND BURKE. 199 

mediately recognized by the almost unanimous votes ol 
both Houses of Parliament. 

During the progress of the measure frequent corres- 
pondence took place with Mr. Pery, Speaker of the Irish 
House of Commons, to whom a letter written by Mr, 
Burke, July 18th, 1778, on the Heads of a Bill for the 
Relief of the Dissenters and Roman Catholics of Ireland, 
is extant in his works. Dublin was then enthusiastic in 
his praise ; a design, warmly seconded by the public, was 
even announced to him by the same gentleman, of erect- 
ing his statue in that city. This proved but a spurt of 
gratitude, soon forgotten, and never since revived ; so 
that this great man, the most illustrious, in many respects, 
she ever produced, who, had he been born in Scot- 
land, would be almost deified by the people, has not in 
Ireland procured a stone to his memory : the only tri- 
butes of respect, known by the waiter, being a picture 
in the theatre of Trinity College, and a bust in its libra- 
ry. An unfeigned humility made him shrink from the idea 
of a statue; and his observations on it, above a year after- 
wards, in a letter to a member of the Irish Legislature, on 
her domestic affairs, when his popularity there had decli 
ned, are marked by his accustomed force and truth. — . 

" I too have had my holiday of popularity in Ireland. 
I have even heard of an intention to erect a statue. I 
believe my intimate friends know how little that idea was 
encouraged by me ; and I was sincerely glad that it never 
took effect. Such honours belong exclusively to the 
tomb — the natural and only period of human inconstancy, 
w ith regard either to desert or to opinion ; for they are 
the very same hands which erect, that very frequently 
(and sometimes with reason enough) pluck down the 
statue. Had such an unmerited and unlocked for com- 
pliment been paid to me two years ago, the fragments of 



SOO LIFE OF THE 

the piece misjht at this hour have the advantage of seeing 
actual service, while they were moving according to the 
law of projectiles, to the windows of the Attorney-Gene- 
ral, or of my old friend Monk Mason." 

Besides these topics of the session, he took an active 
part in the questions on the state of the Navy, the exclu- 
sion of contractors from seats in the House, the raising 
of men and money without consent of Parliament, the 
Habeas-corpus suspension as applied to the Americans, 
and more particularly an able exposition of General Bur- 
goyne's disastrous expedition. In a sharp debate on the 
ordnance estimates, no reply being given to his questions 
on their unusual amount, and the Speaker proceeding to 
put the question, he declared he would not suffer it to be 
put until some explanation was given, when, after a pause, 
it appeared that not one of the br)ard knew any thing prac- 
tically of the subject. Touching on the point of order 
which had been alluded to, he considered it contemptible, 
when, instead of forwarding, it stood in opposition to the 
substance of their duty, and long afterwards boasted that, 
during all the years he had sate in Parliament, he had 
never called any member to r rder. 

The indecisive action of Admiral Keppel with the 
French fleet, during the summer of 1778, and the dissen- 
sion to which it gave rise with Sir Hugh Palliser, his 
second in command, became so much a theme for con- 
tention after the meeting of Parliament, that, in fact, al- 
most every man in the nation ranged himself on the side 
of one or other of the parties. 

For the admiral, who had been taken from the ranks 
of Opposition to command the fleet, Mr. Burke had a 
most warm regard, having first met him at the house of 
Sir Joshua Reynolds, to whom the admiral had been an 
early patron ; political connexion improved the acquaint- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 201 

ance into close and lasting friendship, of which the apos- 
trophe to his memory, in a letter to a noble lord, is a 
proof, and, at the same time, perhaps, one of the most 
eloqnent tributes to a dead friend in our language. The 
admiral was not less warm in his admiration, and had 
declared of Mr. Burke, along with his old commander 
Sir Charles Saunders and others of the party, ' that if the 
country were to be saved, ir could be only by the virtue 
and abilities of that wonderful man.' When about to 
undergo the ordeal of a court-martial, Mr. Burke accom- 
panied him to Portsmouth, received from him there his 
picture, by Mr. Reynolds, as a species of legacy in case 
the court-martial should decide against his honour and 
character, remained with him during much of the trial, 
and is reported to have assisted in arranging his defence. 
His own interests, however, had been attacked by 
Lord Verney, in a suit in Chancery, calling upon him, 
in conjunction with his brother Richard and William 
Bourke as partners widi his Lordship, to bear part of the 
loss sustained by unsuccessful speculations in the funds. 
This participation he denied by affidavit; nor was the cir- 
cumstance probable in itself, of some better evidence of it 
would have been adduced than the Peer could bring for- 
ward ; they had not, in fact, been friends for some time, 
and though his brother might possibly have participated 
in the transaction, it was scarcely fair to call upon him to 
pay his debts of honour, for there could be no legal claim. 
As a considerable degree of misrepresentation has pre° 
vailed on this point, it may be necessary to state, that as 
a holder of India stock, he might have profited by it as 
any other man would do, though even this is doubtful; 
but there is not the slightest foundation for the report of 
his gambling in the funds, which vvas not merely at va- 
riance with his habits but his principles. 
C c 



t02 LIFE OF THE 

A her charge urged against him, a*^ if it were not a 
inibfortune rather than a fauh, was that of being often in 
debt. Let it be remembered, however, that the rental of 
his estate was not estimated at more than 700/. per an- 
num, which, with his Irish property, occasional supplies, 
and the produce of his literary labours, formed nearly the 
whole of his income, after the cessation of the agency for 
New York. Moving in the sphere of life in which he 
did, this must be confessed to be a poor pittance ; yet 
out of this, it may be stated without indelicacy, as he 
more than once mentioned it himself, he contributed to 
the support of several poorer relations, and this of course 
could only be effected by very rigid economy. 

He had, in fact, no extravagant propensities to indulge, 
his domestic arrangements were under the prudent man- 
agement of his lady : his coach-horses took their turn in 
the plough ; his table, to which men of merit or distinc- 
tion in every class were always welcome, partook more 
of neatness and moderation, than parade and profusion. 
At Beaconsfield he preserved a frank and cheerful hos- 
pitality, which those who enjoyed once were glad of the 
opportunity to enjoy again; while in town, he frequently 
asked political and literary friends to dine on beef-stakes, 
or a leg of mutton, and occasionally gave litde more than 
he professed. 

Another accusation urged against him at this time was, 
that he disj)layed much more of ability than of candour 
in harassing ministry with the most unmeasured condem- 
nation, but the same may be said of all Oppositions; 
and, looking to the magnitude of the contest, the inca- 
pacity shown in its conduct, and the unfortunate results, 
it will be difficult to say that his censures were unfair or 
unjust. Mr. Fox was upon almost all occasions more 
violent and much more personal, to a degree beyond 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 203 

even parliamentary license ; he constantly wore in the 
House what was considered the American uniform, buff' 
and blue, which Mr. Burke, except when solicited so to 
do, which was not unfrequently, declined to make his 
common dress. The most moderate men, in fact, lost 
their equanim y on this topic; and Messrs. Wilkes, 
Sawbridge, and others of the same stamp, were some- 
times scur ilous, for on no preceding^ occasion had de- 
bates run so high ; and even the House of Lords often 
forgot its characteristic decorum. 

This spirit found ample vent in the remainder of the 
session, 1778 and 1779, in a series of motions by Mr. 
Fox, following the acquittal of Admiral Keppel, on the 
state of the Navy : of Greenwich Hospital ; the incapa- 
city of Lord Sandwich ; and an address to the King to 
remove him, which were supported by Mr. Burke ; who 
also took part on the question of the threatening mani- 
festo of the Commissioners sent to negociate with Ame- 
rica ; the conduct of Sir William Howe; the rupture 
with Spain in June, which he had long predicted ; and on 
a bill for doing away with exemptions from being pressed 
into the Navy. 

Ireland, notwithstanding his renewed endeavours, being 
still denied participation in the commerce of the em- 
pire, came to a variety of resolutions against importing 
British manufactures : and, with still more effect, formed 
her memorable volunteer associations, ' nothing resem- 
bling which,' said Lord Sheffield, writing a few years af- 
terwards, ' has ever been observed in any country, at least 
where there was an established government.' 

Even Scotland was not quiet. The concessions to the 
Catholics in the preceding year instigated a mob not only 
to raze their chapels to the ground, but to destroy their pri- 
vate houses and property. A petition from this body, 



S04< LIFE OF THE 

praying for compensation for their losses, and security 
ai^ainst further njury, was presented by Mr. Burke, who 
found an opportunity on this occasion for exercisint^ his 
wit, though, perhaj:)s, not in the best taste, to the great 
ami sement of the House ; for observing Lord North to 
be asleep (a frequent failing of that nobleman in public,) 
at the moment he was attributing the popular excesses to 
the supineness of those in power, he instantly turned the 
incident to advantage — " Behold," said he, pointing to 
the slumbering Minister, " what I have again and again 
told you, that Government, if not defunct, at least nods ? 
brother Lazarus is not dead, only sleepeth." 



CHAPTER VH. 

Economical Reform, — Intercedes for mercy towards the 
Rioters. — Rejection at Bristol. — Opposed to Mr. Fox 
on the Repeal of the Marriage Act. — Mr. Sheridan. — 
Change of Ministry. 

During the summer of 1779, the dangers of the 
country had alarmingly increased ; no progress was made 
in subduing America; the expense of the war exceeded 
all precedent; the enemy's fleet sweeping triumphantly 
through the Channel, threatened Plymouth and other parts 
of the coast ; and Ireland, in a state of moral, seemed ra- 
pidly proceeding to actual, revolt, by riots in Dublin, by 
the extension of the system and the imposing attitude of 
the volunteers, by the strong measure of a money-bill for 
six months only, and by very general resolutions against 
" the unjust, illiberal, and impolitic selfishness of Eng- 
land." 

The speech, from the throne, in November, recom= 



RIGHT HON EDMUND BURKE. 205 

mending her hitherto rejected claims to consideration, 
drew from the Member for Bristol many bitter taunts on 
the want of means, not of will, in Ministry, to coerce her 
by fire and sword, as they had attempted with America. 
These, though stigmatised as inflammatory, were perhaps 
not undeserved ; dire necessity alone had extracted the 
measure from the Minister, upon whom a vote of cen- 
sure for neglect, moved by Lord Ossory, gave birth to 
highly-applauded speeches by Mr. Fox and Mr. Burke ; 
the latter remarking, that that which had at first been re- 
quested as a favour, was delayed till angrily demanded 
as a right; till threats extorted what had been denied to 
entreaties ; till England had lost the moment of granting 
with dignity, and Ireland of receiving with gratitude. 

When, however. Lord North introduced his plan of 
relief, he gave it his approval, though without that warmth 
which the zealous spirits of Ireland expected, and they 
themselves displayed on the occasion, but which he con- 
ceived its tardy justice scarcely deserved. Hence arose 
a misrepresentation there, that he was altogether indif- 
ferent to the relief; his popularity therefore sunk at once, 
both in the land of his birth and in that of his adoption ; 
in Bristol, for conceding any commercial advzmtage what- 
ever, and in Dijblin, for withholding any point, however 
indifferent or unimportant in itself; a lot to which all 
statesmen, who act without favour or partiality towards 
contending interests, are too often exposed. 

To remove this impression in Ireland, he wrote " A 
Letter to Thomas Burgh, Esq." dated Jan. 1, 1780, ex- 
planatory of his views and motives, which, though meant 
to be private, soon found its way, by the zeal of his 
friends, into the periodical prints of ihe time, and in some 
degree set him right with the more intelligent part of his 
countrymen. 



20Q LIFE OF THE 

The ill success of the war, and the increased taxation 
required to support it, occasioning at this moment loud 
outcries for Parliamentary Reform, and retrenchment of 
the public expenditure, iMr. Burke dexterously wrested 
attention from the former, which he had always deemed 
an unsafe and impracticable measure, to the latter; which 
he thought in every respect most desirable. 

Of all men in the House he was perhaps the best 
qualified for the attempt, by a share of political courage 
uhich shrunk from no duty however invidious, and habits 
of business which, at all times laborious, were on this oc- 
casion exerted beyond all precedent " For my own part," 
said he, " I have very little to recommend me for this, or 
for any task, but a kind of earnest and anxious persever- 
ance of mind, which with all its good and all its evil effects 
is moulded into my constitution." Cautious of exj)eri- 
ment, as he professed to be, even to timidity, this feeling 
formed a pledge, that no crude or showy innovations 
should be attempted merely because they were new ; and 
his idea of a very cheap government not being necessarily 
the very best, rendered it certain that nothing really useful 
should be taken away. He knew too much of human 
nature, an^of the business of the State, to be led astray 
by visionary schemes of hopeless purity and impossible 
perfection. The habits of the country, he knew, were 
any thing but niggardly toward public offices and public 
servants. While duty, therefore, required that nothing 
gross should be permitted to remain, a personal as well 
as public liberality ensured that no injustice to individuals 
should be inflicted ; that economy should not become 
penury, or reform utter extirpation. 

His notice of motion, on the 15th December, opened 
a brief but lucid exposition of his views, to which Oppo- 
sition gave much praise for the matter and the manner, 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 207 

scarcely any one else venturing to say a word on such a 
ticklish subject. A slight incident, on this occasion, 
again showed his dexterity in debate. While enforcing 
the necessity for frugality, and recommending to the Mi- 
nister the old and valuable Roman apothegm magnum 
vectifral est parsimonia^ he used a false quantity, render- 
ing the second word vectigal. Lord North, in a low 
tone, corrected the error, when Mr. Burke, with his usual 
presence of mind, turned the mistake to advantage. " The 
Noble Lord,'' said he, " hints that I have erred in the 
quantity of a principal word in my quotation ; I rejoice 
at it ; because it gives me an opportunity of repeating the 
inestimable adage," — and with increased energy he thun- 
dered forth — '* magnum vect-t gal est parsimonia.'^ 

Great as was the idea entertained of his talents, expec- 
tation was infinitely surpassed by the production of the 
plan itself, introduced by the memorable speech of the 
1 Ith of February, 1780, which every one conversant with 
political history has read, and he who has read will not 
readily forget. No public measure of the century re- 
ceived such general encomium. Few speeches from the 
Opposition side of the House ever fell with greater effect ; 
and of itself, had he never made any other, would place 
him in the first rank of practical statesmen, for compre- 
hensiveness of design, minute knowledge of detail, the 
mingled moderation and justice towards the public and 
to the persons affected, the wisdom of its general princi- 
ples, and their application to local objects. As a compo- 
sition it has been considered the most brilliant combina- 
tion of powers that ever was, or perhaps can be, devoted 
to such a topic ; and when printed, passed through a great 
number of editions. 

The whole of the scheme was comprised in five bills ; 
embracing the sale of forest lands ; the abolition of the 



^08 LIFE OF THE 

inferior royal jurisdictions of Wales, Cornwall, Chester, 
and Lancaster ; of Treasurer, Comptroller, Cofferer, 
Master, and a variety of inferior officers in the House- 
hold ; of Treasurer of the Chamber ; of the Wardrobe, 
Jewel, and Robes Offices; of the Boards of Trade, 
Green-cloth, and of Works ; of the office of third Se- 
cretary of State ; of the Keepers of the Stag, Buck, and 
Fox Hounds ; much of the civil branches of the Ord- 
nance and Mint ; of the patent offices of the Exchequer; 
the regulation of the army, navy, and pension pay offices, 
and some others ; and above all, a new arrangement of 
the Civil List, by which debt should be avoided in fu- 
ture, and priority of payment ensured to the least pow- 
erful claimants, the First Lord of the Treasury being 
the last on the list. 

The bare enumeration is astounding to any man of 
moderate courage ; but to reduce or regulate so many 
sources of influence, to place the remedy side by side 
with the grievance, to encounter the odium of annihi- 
lating or diminishing the possessor's emoluments, was 
considered the most arduous undertaking ever attempted 
by any member out of office, and supposed to affect too 
many interests even for the authority of those who were 
in ; putting aside the complication and difficulty pre- 
sented in every stage of its progress. 
.' " It nnust remain," said Mr. Dunning in a burst of 
admiration, " as a monument to be handed down to 
posterity of his uncommon zeal, unrivalled industry, as- 
tonishing abilities, and invincible perse\erance. He had 
undertaken a task big with labour and difficulty ; a task 
that embraced a variety of the most impf)rtant objects, 
extensive and complicated ; yet such were the eminent 
and unequalled abilities, so extraordinary the talents and 
ingenuity, and such the fortunate frame of the honourable 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 209 

gentleman's mind, his vast capacity and happy concep- 
tion, that in his hands, what must have proved a vast 
heap of ponderous matter, composed of heterogeneous 
ingredients, discordant in their nature and opposite in 
principle, so skilfully arranged as to become quite sim- 
ple as to each respective part, dependant on each other ; 
and the whole at the same time so judiciously combined, 
as to present nothing to almost any mind tolerably intel- 
ligent, to divide, puzzle, or distract it." 

♦' Mr. Burke'is Reform bill," says the historian Gib- 
bon, " was framed with skill, introduced with eloquence, 
and supported by numbers. Never can I forget the de- 
light with which that diffusive and ingenious orator was 
heard by all sides of the House, and even by those (Gib- 
bon himself u as one of them) whose existence he pro- 
scribed." 

'* Only one sentiment," remarks another contemporary 
who voted against the measi re, " pervaded the House 
and the nation, on the unexampled combination of elo- 
quence, labour, and perseverance which had been dis- 
played by their enlightened author. They covered with 
astonishment and admiration even those who, from prin- 
ciple or from party, appeared most strenuous in opposing 
the progress of the bill itself through every stage." 

Innumerable testimonies of the same kind might be 
quoted even from some of the Ministry, who were never- 
theless ingenious enough to oppose in detail what they 
applauded in the gross. A considerable part of March, 
April, and May, were occupied in debating the different 
clauses ; that for abolishing the office of third Secretary 
of State was lost on the 8th of the former month by a 
majority of seven, after one of the hardest fought contests 
ever remembered. 

Five days afierwardsj however, by the irresistible ef- 
Dd 



^10 LIFE OF THE 

feet of the wit of the mover, as much as his eloquence^ 
sentence of death was passed on the poor Board of Trade 
by a majority of eight ; the two thousand three hundred 
fo!io volumes of its labours, rather unluckily urged by 
Mr. Eden in its defence, being ridiculed with such inimi- 
table effect by the mover, as to be, in the opinion ot 
manv, the chief cause of condemnation ; execution, how- 
ever, was contrived to be delayed for the present. A 
week afterwards the sentiments of the House seemed un- 
expectedly changed by other clauses in the bills being 
rejected by great majorities. 

A proposal by Lord North to give the India Com- 
pany the three years' notice previous to the dissolution 
of their charter, produced a speech of great fervour and 
animation from the Member for Bristol ; he supported 
a bill for suspending the elective franchise of revenue 
officers, and also the famous resolution of Mr. Dunning, 
that the increasing influence of the Crown ought to be 
diminished. 

Amid these duties he found time (April 4th) to write 
a letter on the affairs of Ireland, enforcing his former 
opinions, to John Merlott, Esq. of Bristol. Eight days 
afterwards another was addressed to the chairman of the 
Buckinghamshire meeting for obtaining Parliamentary 
Reform ; a scheme which he considered ineffectual to 
its intended purpose, and pregnant with danger. The 
results, he said, of all his reading, all his thinking, all 
his practical and Parliamentary knowledge, all his com- 
munications with the most experienced and able men, 
were against the change — " Please God," added he em- 
phatically, " I will walk with caution, whenever I am 
not able clearly to see- my way before me." 

About this time, a few petitions to repeal the indul- 
gences granted to the Catholics two years before, excited 



KIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 211 

to action the Protestant associations under Lord George 
Gordon ; a moody fanatic, whose talents were contempti- 
ble, his language in the House often coarse and repre- 
hensible, sometimes almost treasonable, though disre- 
garded as the ravings of a half madman. He had moved, 
without finding a seconder, that the petition presented 
by Mr. Burke the preceding session, from the Catholic 
sufferers by the riots in Scotland, " be thrown over the 
table ;" and now, to give further proofs of his zeal, 
called together, " for the honour of God," the rabble of 
London. The consequences were the riots ; one of the 
most disgraceful pages in our history, when the powers 
of the members of government, seemingly sunk in hope- 
less apathy, waited to be roused by the spirit and good 
sense of the King, who by taking the responsibility upon 
himself of ordering the military to act, restored the me- 
tropolis to the dominion of order and law. 

In the exigency of the moment, when Mr. Fox, with 
inconsiderate party feelings, refused to strengthen the 
hands of the government, Mr. Burke, much to his hon- 
our, strongly recommended it; advising him to forget 
all differences in unanimity and defensive associations. 
As a powerful advocate of the persecuted sect, tlie fana- 
tical feeling ran strongly against him among some of the 
leaders ; his residence in the broad sanctuary was more 
than once heard to be threatened, he was reviled as a Je- 
suit in disguise, nick-named Neddy St. Omer's, and ca- 
ricatured as a monk stirring the fires of Smithfield, in 
addition to much more vituperation. Trusting, however, 
to a considerable share of popularity, or believing that 
the bulk of the mob, being bent on plunder and riot, 
cared little for any thing else, he did not hesitate to mix 
with a party of them, and experienced no personal ill-will. 



SIS LIFE OF THE 

His own notice of the adventure, written soon after to 
Mr. Shackleton, is as follows : — 

" My wife being safely lodged, I spent part of the 
next day in the street amidst this wild assembly into 
whose hands I delivered myself, informing them who I 
was. Some of them were malignant and fanatical, but 
I think the far greater part of those whom I saw were ra- 
ther dissolute and unruly than very ill disposed. I even 
found friends and well-wishers among the blue-cock- 
ades." 

Few things do more credit to the active and perhaps 
sensitive humanity of this eminent man, than his zealous 
though unostentatious endeavours for the extension of 
the royal mercy to the chief part of the unhappy rioters 
who now awaited the awful retribution of the law. With 
this view he drew up some reflections on the approach- 
ing executions, and exerted his influence in pressing let- 
ters to the Lord Chancellor, Lord Mansfield, the Presi- 
dent of the Council, and the Secretary to the Treasury, 
to submit his opinions to his Majesty and Lord North. 

Public justice, he urged, ought to be satisfied with the 
smallest possible number of victims; that numerous exe- 
cutions, far from increasing, diminished the solemnity of 
the sacrifice ; anticipating in this respect the general feel- 
ing of the present day, that if not absolutely character- 
istic of a sanguinary disposition, they are certainly not 
useful. The letters and reflections appear in his Works. 

For the original instigators of the tumults, however, he 
had no such consideration, uttering against them in Par- 
liament several bitter anathemas ; they, he said, and not 
the ignorant and misled multitude, ought to be hanged ; 
and when some of the leading " Associators" were 
seen in the lobby of the House, he exclaimed loudly in 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 313 

their hearinsj — " I am astonished that those men can 
have the audacity still to nose Parliament ;" and had pre- 
viously remarked that freedom of debate in the Com- 
mons of England had arrived at a new sera, when a blud- 
geoned mob in the street aimed to destroy, and soldiers 
with fixed bayonets were employed at the doors to pro- 
tect it. 

On the 20th of June, after calm had been restored, pe- 
titions were again presented aijainst tolerating Popery, to 
which neither Ministers nor Opposition would give any 
countenance. Mr. Fox and Mr. Burke spoke for three 
hours each against reviving such an intolerant spirit; the 
latter after expressing the warmest attachment to the 
Church of England, avowed that he abominated any 
thing like intolerance, moving five resolutions to this ef- 
fect, and in reprobation of the late excesses, which were 
carried. He also thwarted popular prejudice on another 
point. A bill had passed the Commons to prevent Ca- 
tholics from being permitted to give scholastic instruction 
to Protestants, when, finding it likely to be productive of 
some injustice, he drew up a petition to the other House, 
which had so much effect with Lord Thnrlow, that on 
the third reading he quitted the woolsack, and by one of 
his usual forcible assaults drove it out of the House 
without a division. 

I'he humanity of Mr. Burke, exerted on andther occa- 
sion, gave a fillip to the ingenious malice of the daily 
press. A man, it seems, had been sentenced to the pil- 
lory at St. Margaret's Hill, Southu ark, for attenipts at an 
atrocious offence, when the multitude stoned him so as 
to occasion almost immediate death ; dnd for noticing this 
in the House of Commons with a remark on its cruelty 
as being so much more severe a sentence than the law 
awarded, a newspaper chose to indulge in some silly but 



M4« life op the 

most slanderous reflections ; for which a rule for a crimi- 
nal information was obtained against the editor, though, 
on apology not pressed. Five years afterwards, on re- 
peating in his place the same remarks on a nearly simi- 
lar occurrence in Bristol, the slander was reiterated, 
when finding it necessary to bring an action against the 
printer, the jury awarded him, there being no attempt at 
defence, 150/. damages. It is remarkable that shortly 
after this. Lord Louirhborough himself a judge, had to 
3j)peal to a jury against the same unprincipled and abo- 
minable insinuations, which had no other foundation 
than the same party, or personal hostility as in the case 
of Mr. Burke, and he received the same damages. 

In this year also another more extensive and impor- 
tant scheme of humanity occupied the ever active mind 
of the Member for Bristol^ no less than the abolition, or 
material alleviation, of the horrors of the slave trade ; 
and a variety of thoughts on the subject, with a sketch 
of a new negro code, were committed to paper. There 
were many reasons, however, against bringing forward 
such a measure then : the incessant contests which Ame- 
rican afiairs occasioned in parliament; the odium which 
such an innovation on the rights of trade and property 
would bring on Opposition from the West India interest; 
the policy of confining their strength to the more pres- 
sing grievance, the war ; the impossibility of Opposition 
by itself succeeding in such a design under any circum- 
stances ; the temper of the nation, which was not at all 
ripe for the discussion ; and perhaps the unpopularity he 
had already incurred at Bristol, and which such a propo- 
sal would increase to exasperation. Time has shown 
that he judged rightly. Mr. Wilberforce, who took it 
up six years afterwards, has found it necessary to devote 
a whole life to the subject. 



KIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 3tf> 

The dissolution of Parliament in the beginning of au- 
tumn, necessarily carried him to Bristol, to ascertain 
whether the rejection he had apprehended was likely to 
take effect. To a meeting held at the Guildhall, on the 
6th of September, he delivered his celebrated speech, the 
best ever uttered on such an occasion, and perhaps never 
excelled by any thing he spoke elsewhere. Were it 
always in the power of eloquence to conciliate, or argu- 
ment to persuade, there were in this enough of both to 
redeem not only the crime of differing in opinion with his 
constituents, but more serious offences, had such been com- 
mitted. Declining all apology for opposing the wishes, 
though he was satisfied, he said, not the interests, of those 
he represented, he entered on his defence. The charges 
against him were four; — in not visiting the city more 
frequently — in supporting Lord Beauchamp's Insolvent 
Debtor's Bills — the Irish Trade Acts — and the relief 
granted to the Roman Catholics. Each of these he de- 
fends with extraordinary ability; rendering even the 
common and temporary affair of an election, a medium 
for promulgating great and permanent political truths — 
such as the hustings never before supplied us with, and 
never since, except perhaps in the instance of another 
great man lately at Liverpool. 

" Gentlemen,'' said he, in summing up, " I do not 
here stand before you accused of venality, or*tef neglect 
of duty. It is not said that in the long period of my 
service, I have, in a single instance, sacrificed the slight- 
est of your interests to my ambition, or to my fortune. 
It is not alleged that to gratify any anger, or revenge of 
my own, or of my party, I have had a share in wronging 
or oppressing any description of men, or any man in any 
description. No ! the charges against me are all of one 
kind — that I have pushed the principles of general justice 



316 LIFE OF THL 

and benevolence too far; further than a cautious policy 
would warrant; and further than the opinions of many 
would go along with me. — In every accident that may 
happen throu|j:h life, in pain, in sorrow, in depression and 
distress — I will call to mind this accusation, and be com- 
forted." 

The main body of the Dissenters, of the Corporation, 
and much of the weijjjht of property and respectability* 
in the city, were decidedly in his favour ; the milhon were 
of another opinion, and a^^ainst numbers it was useless 
to contend. " Were I fond of a contest," said he, *' I 
have the means of a sharp one in my hands. But I have 
never been remarkable for a bold, active, and sanguine 
pursuit of advantages that are personal to myself." 

The resolution to decline being immediately taken, 

* The following, among other resolutions, passed amid a large 
and most respectable body of the Corporation and Merchants : 

"Bristol, Sept. 6, 1780. 

"At a great and respectable meeting of the friends of Ed- 
mund Burke, Esq. held at the Guildhall, this day, 

"The Right Worshipful the iMayor in the Chair; 

"Resolved — that Mr. Burke as a representative for this city, 
has done all possible honour to himself as a senator, and a man ; 
and that we do heartily and honestly approve of his conduct 
as the result of an enlightened loyalty to his Sovereign, a warm 
and zealous love to his country, through its widely-extended 
empire ; a jealous and watchful care of the liberties of his fellow 
subjects ; an enlarged and liberal understanding of our com- 
mercial interest ; a humane attention to the circumstances of 
even the lowest ranks of the community; and a truly wise, po- 
litic, and tolerant spirit in supporting the National Church with 
a reasonable indulgence to all who dissent from it ; and we wish 
to express the most marked abhorrence of the base arts which 
have been employed without regard to truth and reason, to mis- 
represent his eminent services to his country.'' 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BUKKE. 217 

and as readily declared in another speech, brief, but ex- 
pressive, he thanked the electors for the favours they 
had already conferred, and honestly confessed his regret 
that they would not continue them; adding, that in sor- 
row, not in anger, he took his leave; in person as he 
deemed most proper, rather than by letter as was most 
customary; for as in the face of day he had accepted 
their trust, in the face of day he accepted their dismis- 
sion, conscious that he had nothing to be ashamed of. 
The appeal was very powerful, and the scene almost 
affecting; increased by the feelings of many of the audi- 
tory on the sudden death of one of the candidates, "show- 
ing us," said Mr. Burke at the moment, no less truly 
than pathetically, *' what shadows we are, and what sha- 
dows we pursue!" Bowing to the sheriffs, to the other 
candidates, and to the assembled multitude, he quitted 
the hustings, and Bristol thus suffered itself to become a 
subject for reproach for ever. 

If a popular election were always the exercise of sound 
discretion, the rejection of so great a man would be strange; 
but being, as it is, too often the result of tu nultuous feel- 
ing and prejudice, the wonder ceases. Of all eminences, 
it has long been observed, that that which is raised on 
popular admiration is the most slippery, and the most 
treacherous, continually falling from under the wisest 
and soundest statesmen, without the slightest demerit on 
their part. It may be termed the tight rope of politics, 
" a tremulous and dancing balance," on which none but 
the most dexterous political posturemaster can hope to 
maintain himself long; he cannot depend upon his foot- 
ing a moment: for that line of conduct which the more 
enlightened know to be right, and he himself feels to be 
conscientious, is as often as not that for which he may 
E e 



S18 LIFE OP THE 

be cried up by the multitude to-day, and pulled down 
to-morrow. 

So was it with this distinguished statesman. He had 
merely exerted toward Ireland the same liberality of prin- 
ciple he had shown to America ; and while the one con- 
stituted his greatest merit in the eyes of Bristol, the other 
became his most serious offence. The injury accruing 
to his own interests, on account of thus lesjislating in 
favour of the general interests of the kingdom on the 
one hand, and of oppressed individuals (small debtors* 
and Roman Catholics) on the other, was considerable. 
The representation of Bristol, from its wealth, commerce, 
and population, was certainly an important object to Mr. 
Burke. Mr. Burke was in every respect a high honour 
to Bristol. A great man and a great city are made for 

* In allusion to the inquiries of Mr. Howard respecting that 
unhappy class, he drew the following admirable character of that 
celebrated philanthropist. 

" I cannot name this gentleman without remarking that his 
labours and writings have done much to open the eyes and hearts 
of mankind. He has visited all Europe — not to survey the 
sumptuousness of palaces, or the stateliness of temples ; not to 
make accurate measurements of the remains of ancient gran- 
deur, nor to form a scale of the curiosity of modern arts ; not to 
collect medals or collate manuscripts, but to dive into the 
depths of dungeons ; to plunge into the infection of hospitals ; 
to survey the mansions of sorrow and pain ; to take the gauge 
and dimensions of misery, depression, and contempt ; to remem- 
ber the forgotten, to attend to the neglected, to visit the forsa- 
ken, and to compare and collate the distresses of all men in all 
countries. His plan is original, and it is as full of genius as it is 
of humanity. It was a voyage of discovery; a circumnavigation 
of charity. Already the benefit of his labour is felt more or less 
in every country. I hope he will anticipate its IBnal reward, by 
seeing all its effects fully realized in his own. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 219 

each other, and none, but the most obvious and weighty 
reasons should be permitted to separate them. 

Mahon again received, and, for the remainder of his 
political life, retained him as her representative; *• and 
the humble borough," remarks a judicious historian,* 
" gained by such a member an honour which the greatest 
commercial city might reasonably envy.'' 

It is thus that such places, not wholly under the influ- 
ence of a popular spirit, make up in practical utility what 
they want in theoretical perfection ; and one portion of 
the kingdom is enabled to repair the prejudice or injus- 
tice of another. Without this resource he might not, at 
least for a time, have re-entered Parliament ; he might 
have been disgusted, reasonably enough, with the popu- 
l?ir cause ; a sense of wounded pride might have carried 
him into retirement, to become merely a spectator of 
scenes in which nature and practice had so eminently 
fitted him to act and to adorn. His services, which in 
number and in value exceed perhaps those of any two 
hundred country gentlemen who ever sat in Parliament 
put together, would have been lost to his country. Much 
also would have been lost, and this is no trivial loss, in 
national fame. Great men are a species of valuable pub- 
lic property, always the pride, often the chief stay and 
support of their country ; the stars which enlighten and 
beautify her intellectual firmament, and by the numbers 
and radiance of whom her glory is raised and extended 
in the esteem of other nations. How many illustrious 
names might have been lost to the roll of English history, 
had it not been for the anomaly of close boroughs ! 

When he arrived at Bristol, previous to the election, 
Mr. Noble tells (for it is believed he is still alive) an 

* John Adolphus, Esq. — History of England. 



SSO LIFE OF THE 

anecdote of the habitual disdain with which Mr. Burke 
treated what he called " loose libels," and that strain of 
vulgar abuse so long directed a^^ainst him, even when its 
contradiction promised to be useful to his interests. The 
rumours of his being a Roman Catholic, of being edu- 
cated at St. Omer's, and others of the same stamp, had, 
it seems, reached Bristol after the riots in London, and 
being believed by many of the electors in a certain sphere 
of life, Mr. Noble begged his sanction to write to Mr. 
Shackleton to receive from him, as his preceptor, a for- 
mal contradiction of them. The reply was a negative ; 
" To people who can believe such stories," said he, " it 
will be in vain to offer explanations." His friend re- 
peated the recommendation more pressingly : " If I can- 
not live down these contemptible calumnies, my dear 
friend, I shall never deign to contradict them in any other 
manner," was again the answer. 

Some years after, on a question which arose on the 
impeachment of Mr. Hastings, a passage to the same ef- 
fect is contained in a letter written by him to a Member 
of the House of Commons : — " It would be a feeble sen- 
sibility on my part, which at this time of day would make 
me impatient of those libels, which, by despising through 
so many years, I have at length obtained the honour of 
being joined in commission with this Committee, and be- 
coming an humble instrument in the hands of public jus- 
tice." 

Another anecdote of him, while at Bristol, is related 
by the same gentleman, regarding what his friend Fox 
probably thought one of his deficiencies. Passing an 
evening at Mr. Noble's house, his hostess in jest asked 
him to take a hand at cards, when he pleaded ignorance, 
*' Come then, Mr, Burke," said she, playfully, " and I 
shall teach you," and he accepting the challenge in the 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 221 

same good humour, with a witty remark on the power of 
female temptation, they sat down to the children's game 
of beggar my neighbour. This turning out in his favour, 
he was so much amused with the idea of conquering his 
instructress, as to rally her, with much effect, during the 
remainder of the evening. 

In the discussions at the India-House he sometimes 
took part, and in those of November, respecting the ap- 
pointment of a new governor to Madras, bore testimony 
to the talents and character of his old acquaintance Lord 
Macartney, ultimately the successful candidate. On the 
24th of this month, his son Richard, who had entered 
himself of the Middle Temple, in November, 1775, was 
called to the bar, and took chambers, intending to prac- 
tice, had his health permitted. Here more than one ac- 
quaintance of the writer of these pages had occasion to 
call upon him some time afterwards ; he was a young 
man of talents much above mediocrity, the pride and de- 
light of his father, whom he occasionally assisted in re- 
searches connected with parliamentary duty, and is said 
to have written " The Yorkshire Question ;'' a reply to 
Major Cartwright's plan of reform ; and several letters 
and tracts in reference to the politics of the time. 

In the session of 1780 and 1781, Mr. Burke took a 
leading part on the message announcing the rupture with 
Holland, a proposal by Lord North, to make the India- 
Company pay a large sum for the renewal of their privi- 
leges, a motion by Mr. Fox for an inquiry into the con- 
duct of the war, another by Mr. Minchin on the supposed 
neglect of 30(>0 British seamen, in Spanish prisons ; fol- 
low ed by one by himself on the treatment of the people 
of St. Eustatius, by Sir Georjve Rodney and General 
Vaughan, supported by all the Opposition ; on the latter 
subjects, the humanity of his disposition was compli- 



223 LIFE OF THE 

mented as being only equalled by the brilliancy of his 
genius. 

In February, the Reformi bill was again introduced, in 
accordance with the solicitations of a variety of political 
associations, whose thanks and compliments, flowing from 
many parts of the kingdom, formed some counterpoise 
to the ill-humour of Bristol. Much of his illustration, 
and some of his reasoning on the point were new ; his 
reply is said to have surpassed every thing that could be 
conceived on a subject seemingly so exhausted ; the en- 
comiums on his ability, eloquence, and wit, even from 
the ministerial side, were unprecedented, and a common 
remark in the House was " that he was the only man in 
the country whose powers were equal to the forming and 
accomplishing so systematic and able a plan of reform." 
Lord North, who was not the last to applaud, delayed for 
some days to give it a negative, though adjured by the 
mover to do so at once if he meant it, without giving fur- 
ther anxiety to him or the House, " and be, at least for 
one day in his life, a decisive Minister." In support of 
the measure Mr. Pitt made his first speech in Parliament. 

It was about this period that the kind feelings of Mr. 
Burke were appealed to by a young and friendless lite- 
rary adventurer, subsequently an eminent poet, who, 
buoyed up with the praise his verses had received in the 
country, and the hope of bettering his fortune by them in 
London, had adventured on the journey thither, with 
scarcely a friend or even acquaintance who could be use- 
ful to him, and with no more than three pounds in his 
pocket. This trifle being soon expended, the deepest 
distress awaited him. Of all hopes from literature he 
was speedily disabused ; there was no imposing name to 
recommend his little volume, and an attempt to bring it 
out himself only involved him more deeply in difficulties ; 



SIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKlE. SS3 

the printer had deceived him, and the press was at a stand, 
from the want of that slimuhis which puts much of the 
world in motion. Hearing, however, or knowing some- 
thing of an opulent Peer, then in London, who had a sum^ 
mer residence in his native county, he proposed to dedi- 
cate to him his httle volume ; the offer was accepted ; 
but, on requesting a very small sum to enable him to 
usher it into the world, received no answer to his appli- 
cation. His situation became now most painful ; he was 
not merely in want but in debt ; he had applied to his 
friends in the country, but they could render him no as- 
sistance ; his poverty had become obvious to the persons 
with w horn he resided, and no further indulgence could 
be expected from them : he had given a bill for part of 
his debt, which, if not paid within the week, he was 
threatened with a prison ; he had not a friend in the world 
to v\ hom he could apply ; despair awaited him which ever 
way he turned. 

In this extremity of destitution. Providence directed 
him to Mr. Burke. He had not the slightest knowledge 
of that gentleman, other than common fame bestowed ; — • 
no introduction but his own letter — no recommendation 
but his distress ; but " hearing that he was a good man, 
and presuming to think him a great one," he applied to 
him with a degree of success far beyond any possible 
expectations he could form. Mr. Burke, with scanty 
means himself, and unbribed by a dedication, did that 
which the opulent Peer declined to do ; but this was not 
all ; for he g^ve him his friendship, criticism, and advice, 
introduced him to some of the first men in the country, 
and very speedily became the means of pushing him on 
to fame and fortune. 

As a critic also, Mr. Burke was frequently called upon 
by authors for his opinion and correction, by those who 



gS4 LIFE OF THE 

could procure an introduction to him ; and about this 
time another candidate for poetic fame, the Rev. Mr. Lo- 
gan, a Scotch clergyman, sent a present of a pleasing 
volume of poems, which uas aiisvvered by a compli- 
mentary note, and an invitation to breakfast in Charles- 
street. 

Another anecdote of his humanity, occurring nearly at 
the same period, was lately related by an Irish gentleman 
of rank who professed to know the circumstances, by 
way of contrast to the eccentric but mistaken kindness of 
an Irish philanthropist of our own day to one of the 
same class of unhajipy objects. Walking home late one 
evening from the House of Commons, Mr. Burke was 
accosted by one of those unfortunate women who linger 
out existence in the streets, with solicitations, which per- 
ceiving were not likely to have effect, she changed her 
manner at once, and begged assistance in a very pathetic 
and seemingly sincere tone. In reply to inquiries, she 
stated herself to have been lady's maid in a respectable 
family, but being seduced by her master's son, had at 
length been driven through gradations of misery to her 
present forlorn state ; she confessed to be wretched be- 
yond description, and looked forward to death as her only 
relief. The conclusion of the tale brought Mr. Burke 
to his own door ; turning round with much solemnity of 
manner, he addressed her, " Young woman, you have 
told a pathetic story ; whether true or not is best known 
to vourself ; but tell me, have vou a serious and settled 
wish to quit your present way of life, if you.have the op- 
portunity of so doing ?" " Indeed, Sir, I would do any 
thing to quit it." — *' Then come in," was the reply ; 
" Here Mrs. Webster," said he to the housekeeper, who 
lived in the family for about 30 years, " here is a new re- 
cruit for the kitchen ; take care of her for the night, and 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 225 

let her have every thing suitable to her condition, till we 
can inform Mrs. Burke of the matter." — She remained a 
short time under the eye of the family, was then provided 
with a place, and turned out afterwards a well-behaved 
woman. 

A motion by Mr. Fox, in June, to repeal the Marriage 
Act, excited particular notice, on account of bringing for- 
ward Mr. Burke as its chief opponent, the tv\ o friends 
supporting their respective views with extra(jrdinary 
ability. Those of the former were considered too gene- 
ral and too philosophical for a practical statesman, who 
knew so much of the world ; while the latter seemed to 
keep his eye more on facts, on the truth of his general 
principles, and on their ap])lication to the condition of 
society in this country. It was rejected without a divi- 
sion ; and, in fact, Mr. Fox took up the matter from a 
family feeling, — the aversion shown by the Duke of 
Richmond's family to his mother's marriage with his fa- 
ther. Some of the ideas thrown out by the Member for 
Malton are said to have furnished hints to Mr. Malthus. 

It is amusing sometimes to look back and trace the 
contradictory opinions entertained of statesmen, — the 
most vilified of all the animals in the creation — at different 
periods of their career, and the Utile credit they receive 
for the most honest opinions and conduct, when unwilling 
to go all lengths u ith the zealots of different parties. At 
this time the Tories considered Mr. B.irke one of their 
most formidable adversaries ; while some of the more 
violent Whigs thought him little better than half a Tory; 
the former occasionally hinted that he treated rank, wealth, 
and connexion, with too little ceremony ; the other that 
he was too aristocratical in his notions for a bold and de- 
cided Whig. " I admired, as every body did, the talents^ 
but not ihe principles of Mr. Burke," says Bishop Wat* 
Ff 



3S6 LIFE OF THE 

son, writing of this particular period, and his reasons foi 
questioning the latter are rather remarkable for a bishop. 
— '• His opposition to the clerical petition first excited my 
suspicion of his being a high Churchman in religion, and 
a Tory, perhaps an aristocratic Tory, in the stare." 

Alluding to these accusations in the speech on the 
Marriage Act just mentioned, he gives the substance of 
those doctrines, which, having more fully illustrated ten 
years afterwards, he was then charged with having 
broached for the first time ; — doctrines which teach no 
more than the strict preservation of all the rights of all 
the orders, high and low, in the state ; and which, whe- 
ther called Whiggism, or Toryism, is at least sound pa- 
triotism. 

" I am accused, I am told abroad, of being a man of 
aristocratic principles. If by aristocracy they mean the 
peers, I have no vulgar admiration, nor vulgar antipathy 
towards them ; I hold their order in cold and decent re- 
spect. I hold them to be of an -absolute necessity in the 
constitution ; but I think tliey are only good when kept 
within their proper bounds. .... 

" If by the aristocracy, which indeed comes nearer to 
the point, they mean an adherence to the rich and power- 
ful against the poor and weak, this would, indeed, be a 
very extraordinary part. I have incurred the odium of 
gentlemen in this House, for not paying sufficient regard 
to men of ample property. When, indeed, the smallest 
rights of the poorest people in the kingdom are in ques- 
tion, I would set my face against any act of pride and 
power, countenanced by the highest that are in it ; and if 
it should come to the last extremity, and to a contest of 
blood — my part is taken ; I would take my fate with the 
poor, and low, and feeble. 

" But if these people come to turn their liberty into a 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 3^7 

cloak for maliciousness, and to seek a privilege of exemp- 
tion, not from power, but from the rules of morality and 
virtuous discipline, then I would joiia^ my hand to make 
them feel the force, which a few, united in a good cause, 
have over a multitude of the profligate and ferocious." 

To a new and brilliant recruit to the banners of Oppo- 
sition, already rich in fame, and with whom as a member 
of the club he had been for some time acquainted, he is 
said to have given some friendly though disregarded ad- 
vice on his first efforts in Parliament, which were made 
in the course of this session. 

This was the witty and ingenious Mr. Sheridan, who, 
possessed of talents the most useful, and even splendid, 
only wanted industry to become equal to some of the 
greatest names of the age. Even as it was, indolent and 
dissipated, neglecting study and averse to business, his 
uncommon natural powers always placed him in the first 
rank. A good poet, he would not cultivate poetry ; the 
first comic dramatist of the age, and almost in our lan- 
guage, he deserted the drama ; a shrewd politician, he 
wanted that solidity of sentiment and conduct, which, 
after all, form the surest passports of public men to public 
favour ; a powerful orator, he would not always cultivate 
that degree of knowledge which could alone render it ef- 
fective and convincing ; he was ready, shrewd, and remark- 
ably cool in temper in debate, but like some advocates at 
the bar, whose example few prudent men would desire 
to imitate, he seemed often to pick up his case from the 
statements of the opposite side. Power, fortune, and dis- 
tinction, all the inducements which usually work on the 
minds of men, threw out their lures in vain to detach 
him from pleasure, to which alone he was a constant 
votary. 

With all these deductions, his exertions in Parliament 



SSS LIFE OF THE 

were frequent and vigorous ; his wit and ing^enuity never 
failed to amuse and interest, if they did not persuade ; 
with greater preparation for Parliamentary discussion, few 
could be more effective. His speech on the Begum 
charge, of more than five hours' continuance, and consi- 
dered one of the finest orations ever delivered in Parlia- 
ment, drew from Mr. Burke, Mr. Fox, and Mr. Pitt, 
compliments of a high and unusual order ; and from the 
house generally, and the galleries, — members, peers, 
strangers of all sorts by common consent, vehement shouts 
of applause and clapping of hands. With such powers, 
who but must regret their inadequate exercise, and un- 
honoured close ? For it is melancholy to remember that 
this admired man, the friend of the great, the pride of 
wits, the admiration of senates, the delight of theatres, the 
persevering apologist of his party for so many years, 
should at length be permitted to terminate his career in 
distress ; adiiing another to the many instances too fami- 
liar to us, of great talents destitute of the safeguard of 
ordinary prudence. 

Inferior to Mr. Burke, to whom, at one time, he pro- 
fessed to look up as a guide, in some natural gifts, in 
moral strength of character, in extent of knowledge, in 
industry, in what may be termed the higher order of 
political genius, there were in iheir history several points 
of resemblance. Natives of the same country, they sprang 
from that rank in life which must work its own way to 
wealth or eminence. From the study of the law in 
England, they were both weaned by the attractions of 
general literature; and from this again, by the more ani- 
mating bustle of politics; it was their fate to struggle 
the greater part of their lives in the up hill path of Oppo- 
sition for a momentary enjoyment of power, no sooner 
obtained, than as suddenly snatched from their grasp. 



RIGHT HON EDMUND BURKE. S29 

111 success, however, did not shake their constancy ; dis- 
interestedness was in an eminent degree a merit of both. 
For amid unparalleled shiflings of principle and of party, 
by men who had not the apology of stinted or embar- 
rassed fortunes to plead, they continued faithful to their 
leaders; a fidelity not less honourable than remarkable, 
for it was imitated by few. In addition to these coinci- 
dences, the similarity may be carried a point further. 
Though always foremost in the support of their party, 
they rose superior to party feelings when the public safety 
seemed endangered — Mr. Burke on occasion of the riots 
in 1780, Mr. Sheridan during the mutiny at the Nore. 
The French Revolution misled the latter, as it did many 
other able and ingenious, though perhaps not profound, 
men; and, in the language of the former, they became 
" separated in politics for ever." 

A resolution of Congress to recal General Burgoyne 
from his parole in England induced Mr. Burke, at the 
solicitation of the latter, to address a letter to Dr. Frank- 
lin, then American ambassador at Paris, in August, 1781, 
requesting his influence to get the order rescinded. The 
philosopher was more than usually polite in reply. " Mr. 
Burke always stood high in my esteem; and his affec- 
tionate concern for his friend renders him still more 
amiable;" expressing for him in another sentence what 
no other English statesman enjoyed, " great and invaria- 
ble respect and affection." 

In support of the amendment to the address moved by 
Mr. Fox, November 27th, 1781, Mr. Burke uttered a 
bitter philippic against the principle as well as the con- 
duct of the war. The figure of shearing the wolf, in 
allusion to the taxation of America, made a very strong 
impression on the House; after an animated exposition of 



S30 LIFE OP THE 

the folly of claiming rights which could not be enforced, 
he went on to say — 

" We had a right to tax America, and as we had a 
right, we must do it. We must risk every thing, forfeit 
every thing, think of no consequences, take no conside- 
ration into view but our right; consult no ability, nor 
measure our right with our power, but must have our 
•right. Oh ! miserable and infatuated ministers ! misera- 
ble and undone country ! not to know that right signifies 
nothing without might, that the claim without the power 
of enforcing it was nugatory and idle in the copyhold of 
rival states, or of immense bodies of people. Oh! says 
a silly man full of his prerogative of dominion over a few 
beasts of the field, there is excellent wool on the back of 
a wolf, and therefore he must be sheared. What ! shear 
a wolf? Yes. But will he comply? have you considered 
the trouble? how will you get this wool ? Oh! I have 
considered nothing, and I will consider nothing but my 
right : a wolf is an animal that has wool ; all animals that 
have wool are to be shorn, and therefore I will shear 
the wolf. This was just the kind of reasoning urged by 
the Minister, and this the counsel he had given." 

The omission in Lord Cornwallis's capitulation of any 
article to secure the American loyalists serving in the 
British army from the vengeance of their countrymen, 
formed another topic of indignant reproach with Mr. 
Burke. Next day he returned to the charge with undi- 
minished spirit; followed in a few days by a renewal of 
the motion respecting St. Eustatius ; a general feeling 
existing that the people had been unjustifiably treated, 
which the heavy damages afterwards awarded by juries 
against the commanders served to confirm. 

Shortly afterward he presented a petition to the House, 



BIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 231 

privately conveyed to him, written on the blank leaf of an 
octavo volume with black lead pencil (pen and ink being 
denied him), from Mr. Laurens, American Envoy to 
Holland, who, being captured on his passage, had been 
committed to the tower a year before ; the seeming rigour 
of the case exciting all his sensibility, the cause of the 
prisoner was taken up with such warmth, that he was 
liberated a few days afterward, and soon exchanged for 
General Burgoyne. 

Several of the politicians of Ireland being in the habit 
of consulting him on the public measures there. Lord 
Kenmare at this moment solicited his opinion on a bill 
then in progress for the alleged relief of the Roman Ca- 
tholics, particularly in matters of education; to which he 
replied in a letter dated 21st February, 1782, soon after 
published without his consent in the Irish metropolis. 
This piece, which has all his accustomed force and per- 
spicuity, was written amid a multiplicity of business, 
public and private, allowing him so little leisure that it 
was said to be dictated sometimes while eating a family 
dinner, sometimes while dressing, or even engaged in 
familiar conversation. In public he was occupied, after 
the recess, in supporting some motions of Mr. Fox 
against Lord Sandwich and the Admiralty Board ; on 
the employment of General Arnold as " a rebel to 
rebels;'' on the Ordnance Estimates; in an able reply 
to|the new American -Secretary (Mr. Welbore Ellis;) 
on General Conway's motion for terminating the war 
with the colonies, which reduced the Ministerial majority 
to one; and on many other topics, among which were 
the new taxes, ten in number, imposed during the con- 
test, urging towards the conclusion of a powerful speech ; 
" What fresh burthens can the Noble Lord add to this 
taxed and taxing nation ? We are taxed in riding and 



233 LIFE OF THfci 

in walking, in stayinpj at home and in pjoinpj abroad, in 
being nriasters or in being servants, in drinking wine or 
in drinking beer; in short in every way possible." 

When at length the struggle terminated (19th March, 
1782,) by the resignation of the Ministry, amid the trium- 
phant shouts of Opposition, he afforded an example of 
moderation checking the too clamorous joy of his friends, 
by reminding them how many difficulties they had to 
encounter; how necessary it was to guard against their 
own desires, self opinions, vanity, love of power, or 
emolument; how much the public expected from them; 
and how much they stood pledged to achieve. — Recol- 
lecting the dictation • hich Mr. Fox often wished to as- 
sume in the deliberations of the party, it is difficiilt to 
believe that this lecture was not chiefly meant for him ; 
from a misgiving in the mind of his coadjutor (so truly 
verified by the result) that his rashness, or impatience of 
superior lead or influence, would ultimately ruin the party. 

A letter from Dr. Franklin, on the subject of the ex- 
change of Mr. Laurens for General Burgoyne, drew from 
Mr. Burke the following characteristic letter, the morning 
of the first decisive expression of opinion by the House 
of Commons against the American war : — 

" Dear Sir, 

" Your most obliging letter demanded an early answer. 
It has not received the acknowledgment which was so 
jusdy due to it. But Providence has well supplied my 
deficiencies; and the delay of the answer has made it 
much more satisfactory than at the time of the receipt of 
your letter I dared to promise myself it could be. 

" I congratulate you as the friend of America, I trust 
as not the enemy of England, I am sure as the friend of 
mankind, on the resolution of the House of Commons, 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE, 



233 



carried by a majority of 19, at two o'clock this morning, 
in a very full house. It was the declaration of 234 ; I 
think it was the opinion of the whole. 1 trust it will lead 
to a speedy peace between the two branches of the Eng- 
lish nation, perhaps to a general peace ; and that our hap- 
piness may be an introduction to that of the world at 
large. I most sincerely congratulate you on the event. 
" I wish I could say that I have accomplished my 
commission. Difficulties remain. But as Mr. Laurens 
is released from his confinement, and has recovered his 
health tolerably, he may wait, I hope, without a great 
deal of inconvenience, for the final adjustment of this 
troublesome business. He is an exceedingly agreeable 
and honourable man.* I am much obliged to you for 
the honour of his acquaintance. He speaks of you as I 
do ; and is perfectly sensible of your warm and friendly 
interposition in his favour. I have the honour to be, with 
the highest possible esteem and regard, dear Sir, 
" Your most faithful and 

*' Obedient humble servant, 

"Edmund Burke. 
"London, Charles Street, 
Feb. 28th, 1782." 

* This character was perfectly just, being distinguished after- 
wards in his native country foruncommon disinterestedness and 
contempt for/the common scrambling after place and power, too 
common even in republican America.' He resided after the peace 
chiefly on his eatate, and on his death, in 1792, «lesired his body 
to be burned to ashes in his garden by nine favourite negroeSj, 
which was accordingly done. 




234< LIFE OF TUB 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Appointed Paymaster General. — Lord Shelbiirne. — Coali- 

i. Hon. — India Bill. — Mr. Pitt. — Mr. Burke elected Lord 

ft*. 

Rector of the University of Glasgow. — Reception in 
the AVw Parliament. — Letter to Miss Shackleton. 

Thus terminated the most hard and ably fought party- 
struggle in our history, and with it virtually the war in 
which it originated ; but it did not leave Mr. Burke as 
it found him, undisputed leader of his party. 

Mr. Fox, his political pupil and friend, who had been 
for some time treadinp- closely on his heels, now advanced 
to an equality in the conduct of Parliamentary business, 
and finally took the lead. For this there were some ob- 
vious reasons. Inferior to his tutor, as a great and com- 
manding orator, and what ought to be of more conse- 
quence to the country — as a wise and sound statesman, he 
frequently excelled most men in vigour of debate; but more 
especially possessed a peculiar tact beyond all his contem- 
poraries and all his predecessors without exception, for be- 
ing at the head of a political party. He enjoyed all the 
weight which birih and connexion (and these are essential 
objects among the Whigs of England) could give : his 
acquaintance with the great was necessarily extensive, and 
his friendships nearly as general ; with the ^oung by com- 
munity of pursuits and pleasures, with the old and staid, 
b) community of information and talent. His fortune 
wa^.coij^ydqrable, had it not been squandered, his temper 
in general easy, his thirst for popularity excessive, his 
manners were adapted to gain it, and his sncrifices to ensure 
it ; his very faults and weaknesses were with many more 
matter of jest and favour than of censure. Some of his 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. ^35 

doctrines were more to the taste of the people, who placed 
confidence in his sincerity ; and with scarcely a shilling 
he could call his own, they were pleased to think him in 
spirit the most independent. 

In all these points he had the advantage over his co- 
adjutor, who also suffered some loss of weight by his re- 
jection at Bristol, by his disregard of the |X)pular voice 
when he thought it ill directed, by a more uncompro- 
mising temper, by being supposed a dependant of Lord 
Rockingham, and, among a certain class, by being a na- 
tive of Ireland. There was unquestionably a jealousy of 
the merits and influence of Mr. Burke, even among 
many who advocated the same cause, which nothing but 
very uncommon powers and exertions enabled him to 
surmount, and of which he complained. Under all these 
disadvantages, however, he had kept the lead in the Com- 
mons for ten years ; and had Lord North fallen three 
years sooner, would have been made efficient Minister ; 
the common opinion, early expressed at the table of Lord 
Rockingham, being, that " he was the only man who 
could save the empire from dismemberment." Even 
just before thai Minister's resignation, he himself re- 
marks he had obtained a considerable share of public con- 
fidence, notu ithstanding the jealousy and obloquy which 
had assailed him during much of his career. " I do not 
say I saved my country — I am sure I did my country 
much service. There were few indeed that did not at 
that time acknowledge it." 

That Mr. Fox should now prevail, with Westminster 
at his back, v. ith unbounded popularity in the nation, and 
the advantage of that aristocratic feeling in his favour, ob- 
viously inherent in all our arrangements, is not surpris- 
ing. Mr. Burke, who considered humility in the esti- 
mate of ourselves a species of moral duty, submitted to 



S36 LIFE OF THE 

the sense of his party without a murmur. A vain man 
would have resented this; a weak one complained of it ; 
an ambitious or selfish one probably taken advantage of 
it on the first opportunity to quit the connexion for ever, 
and throw the weight of his name and talents into the op- 
posite scale. 

In the division of the spoil of office, his share was a 
seat in the Privy Council, and the Paymaster-General- 
ship of the Forces, then the most lucrative office in the 
State, and remarkable for having been held by Lords 
Chatham, Holland, North, and Charles Townshend, pre- 
vious to their becoming first Ministers. Considerable 
surprise was expressed at his not being included in the 
Cabinet ; one reason assigned for which was his desire to 
purge the office in question, though the real one perhaps 
was the necessities of his party, which required the Cabi- 
net offices for men of greater family and Parliamentary 
interest, though of far inferior talents ; and also for Lord 
Shelburne and his friends ; who enjoyed a large share of 
royal favour. It is also true that he drove no bargain on 
the subject ; expressing to his friends sentiments similar 
to those of a great statesman of the present day* — his 
willingness to serve, not where ambition might dictate, 
but where the general interests of government required. 

Politics, in fact, unlike literature, is seldom a Republic. 
Party is Monarchy in miniature, where each must keep 
an appointed station for the benefit of all, and where 
other circumstances, independent of talents, must unite 
to constitute a chief. 

But were a man in this country, of great capacity and 
attainments, though of little influence or fortune, such 
for instance as Mr. Burke, deliberately to choose his 

* Mr. Canning's speech at Liverpool, September, 182S. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. S37 

side in politics as he would a profession — that is, for the 
advantages it is likely to bring — he would probably not 
be a Whig. That numerous and powerful body is be- 
lieved to be too tenacious of official consequence — and 
prone to consider high rank, leading influence, and great 
family connexion, rather than talents of humbler birth, 
as of right entitled to the first offices of government ; 
they are willing to grant emolument, but not power, to 
any other than lawyers who do not necessarily interfere 
with their views ; an opinion which, notwithstanding the 
professon of popular principles, is believed to have made 
them sometimes unpopular, and driven many useful al- 
lies into the ranks of the Tories. 

His Majesty received his new servants unwillingly, 
nor is it matter for surprise ; it is hard for any man, and 
most of all perhaps for a king, to receive into his confi- 
dence those who for nearly twenty years together have 
thwarted his favourite views. So strong was the aversion 
to the Rockinghams, that Lord Shelburne, leader of ano- 
ther branch of Opposition, was offered the Treasury in- 
stead ; but feeling the want of weight and connexion in 
Parliament, he prudently declined it. Lord Rocking- 
ham, in consequence, insisted upon certain stipulations, 
which were — to concede independence to America, to 
introduce a system of economy into all the departments 
of the State, and to carry some popular bills through 
Parliament. 

The ministerial labours of the Paymaster-General 
were more considerable than those of any Member of the 
Cabinet. His Reform Bill passed both Houses, though 
much mutilated, finding, what most reformers in time 
discover, th; t it is easier to propose public correctives 
when out of office, than to carry them into effect when 
in. Many good reasons, indeed, were assigned for the 



S38 LIFE OF THE 

alterations ; and, as it was, no similar purgation of minis- 
terial influence is known in our history, thirty-six offices 
eligible to be held by Members of Parliament being at 
once abolished. He also declared his readiness, when- 
ever the sense of the House would go with him, to adopt 
every part of the plan he had proposed. 

The bill to regulate his own office was deemed a spe- 
cies of feat in ingenuity, labour, and knowledge of busi- 
ness ; the system being so complicated, and the abuses 
so ancient, that a universal feeling prevailed among his 
predecessors, down to the lowest clerks, of the hopeless- 
ness of the one being simplified, or the other amended. 
He nevertheless succeeded in it — surrendering to the pub- 
lic the interest and other advantages accruing from the 
enormous sum of 1,000,000/., which was not unfre- 
quently the amount of the balance in hand. His disin- 
terestedness did not stop there. As Treasurer of Chel- 
sea Hospital he became entitled to the profits of clothing 
the pensioners, amounting to 700/. per annum, and, by 
a new agreement with the contractor, managed to save 
600/. more ; these sums, which as regular perquisites 
of office might have been enjoyed without impropriety 
or notice, he generously threw into the public Treasury. 
Considering his pecuniary circumstances, these were no 
ordinary sacrifices, and they gained from the world just 
as much credit as such things usually do — little notice 
and no recompense. 

He agreed in the propriety of opening the negociation 
with Holland, in a variety of censures passed by Mr. 
Dundas on the Government of India, and in conceding 
independence to the Irish Parliament, expressing in the 
following letter to Lord Charlemont some ingenious sen- 
timents in his usual (especially in epistolary writing) ele- 
gance of manner : — 



right hon. edmund burke. 239 

"My dear Lord, 

" The slight mark of your Lordship's remembrance 
of an old friend, in the end of your Lordship's letter to 
Lord Rockingham, gave me very great satisfaction. It 
was always an object of my ambition to stand well with 
you. I ever esteemed and admired your public and 
private virtues, which have at length produced all the 
effects which virtue can produce on this side of the grave, 
in the universal love of your countrymen. I assure you, 
my Lord, that I take a sincere part in the general joy ; 
and hope that mutual affection will do more for mutual 
help, and mutual advantage, between the two kingdoms, 
than any ties of artificial connexion whatsoever. If I 
were not persuaded of this, my satisfaction at the late 
events would not be so complete as it is.. For, born as 
I was in Ireland, and having received, what is equal to 
the origin of one's being, the improvement of it there, 
and therefore full of love, and I might say of fond par- 
tiality for Ireland, I should think any benefit to her, 
which should be bought with the real disadvantage of 
this kingdom, or which might tend to loosen the ties of 
connexion between them would be, even to our native 
country, a blessing of a very equi\ ocal kind. 

" But I am convinced that no reluctant tie can be a 
strong one, and that a natuKal cheerful alliance will be 
a far securer link of connexion than any principle of sub- 
ordination borne with grudging and discontent. All 
these contrivances are for the happiness of those they 
concern ; and if they do not effect this, they do nothing, 
or worse than nothing. Go on and prosper ; improve 
the liberty you have obtained by your virtue, as a means 
of national prosperity, and internal as well as external 
union. 

" I find that Ireland, among other marks of her just 



210 LIFE OF THL 

gratitude to Mr. Grattan (on which, your Lordship wiil 
present him my congratulations,) intends to erect a monu- 
ment to his honour, which is to be decorated with sculp- 
ture. It will be a pleasure to you to know, that, at this 
time, a young man of Ireland is here, who I really think, 
as far as my judgment goes, is fully equal to our best 
statuaries, both in taste and execution. If you employ 
him, you will encourage the rising arts in the decoration 
of the rising virtue of Ireland ; and though the former, in 
the scale of things, is infinitely below the latter, there is a 
kind of relationship between them. I am sure there has 
ever been a close connexion between them in your mind. 
The young man's namb who w ishes to be employed is 
Hickey.* I have the honour to be, with the highest sen- 
timents of regard and esteem, my dear Lord, 

*' Your Lordship's most obedient servant, 
" Edmund Burke. 
" Whitehall, June 12th, 1782." 

When the news arrived of the great naval victory in 
the West-Indies, he declined to renew the inquiry against 
the commander-in-chief, respecting St. Eustaiius, saying, 
that on public grounds he had brought it forward, and on 
public grounds, if the House thought proper, he would let 
it drop ; and then, after a beautiful apostrophe to the laurel 
crown of the Romans, concluded by adding — " If there 
were a bald spot on the head of Rodney, he uould wil- 
lingly cover it with laurels." 

By the persuasions of Mr. Fox, who had promised all 
his influence to the popular cause, and who afterwards 

* Another instance of Mr. Burke's kindness ; he had already 
brought forward a poet and painter of celebrity, and now wished 
to do the same by a sculptor, but he died young. A good bust 
of Mr. Burke, by him, is in existence. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. g4;l 

took much credit to himself with Westminster for the fact 
he did not attend a discuNsion on Parliamentary Reform, 
which he ahvays opposed; — nakin^ a acrific-. m this 
instance, to the popularity of his friend's name, which he 
never made to his own. 

Administration, on the whole, did much for popularity, 
and would probably have succeeded in their aim of ac- 
quiring it, when the Marquis of Rockingham, who had 
been seized with the prevailing complaint, named influ- 
enza, unexpectedly died. Lord Shelburne, without any 
intimation to Mr. Fox, Mr. Burke, Lord John Towns- 
hend, or others of the party attached to the deceased No- 
bleman, instantly vaulted from the Home Department 
into the vacancy ; and they, unable or unwilling to act 
with him, immediately resigned. 

This, which has been usually considered a hasty mea- 
sure, certainly did not meet with general approval ; but 
there is no foundation for an assertion made by some, who 
profess to have known something of the political secrets 
of the time, that it arose from the irritation of Mr. Burke. 
The suggestion, on the contrary, came from Mr. Fox^ 
whose importance, from the situation he held, was more 
directly affected. It is undoubtedly true that both, while 
they disagreed with the new head of the Treasury on some 
public points, entertained a strong personal dislike to the 
man ; he, in return, is said to have felt quite as cordial an 
aversion to them (particularly to Mr. Burke,) from a jea- 
lousy of being constantly outworked and outshone by 
them, in Parliament, added to their greater estimation in 
popular opinion, and standing in the midst of his path to 
power. 

^ Lord Shelburne, with very considerable talents, exten-^ 
sive information, and, perhaps, a better acquaintance with 
the foreign relations of the country than Mr. Fox, wha 
H h 



S4^ LIFE OF THE 

filled that de])artment, had, unfortunately for himself, ac- 
quired a character for political bad faith. He had been 
designated a Jesuit, and nick-named Malagrida for some 
years; he was accused of insincerity, of absolute duplicity, 
and even of want of common veracity toward his col- 
leagues to which, on the present occasion, some slighter 
circumstances gave countenance, though it is but justice 
to observe, the more serious charges were never proved. 
By his friends, the revolt of the Rockinghams was as- 
cribed to petulence, to the disappointed ambition of Mr. 
Fox ; to the desire of Mr. Burke to place the Duke of 
Portland at the head of the Treasury, and to consequent 
discontent at finding the Earl's influence in the highest 
quarter so much greater than their own. Of this supe- 
rior influence, there had been already abundant proofs ; 
in being offered the Treasury, as already stated, before 
the Marquis ; in securing almost unknown to that noble- 
man, the Garter for himself ; a heavy pension for Colonel 
Barre ; a peerage, a pension, and the unusual honour of 
a seat in the Cabinet as Chancellor of the Duchy of Lan- 
caster, for Mr. Dunning, both his intimate friends and 
chief supporters in the House of Commons ; besides an 
understood obligation on the part of Mr. Burke, at least 
for the present, to let the cutting-edge of his Reform bill 
glance harmless over the D chy in question. 

The pension to Colonel Barre, exciting animadversion 
in the Commons, his Lordship urged that it was the pro- 
posal of Lord Rockingham himself, conferred in lieu of 
the Pay-office, which had been given to Mr. Burke ; and 
that he had the letter in his pocket in which the oflTer was 
made. The latter gentleman and Lord John Townshend 
utterly denied any such arrangement, called the story an 
utter fabrication, and dared him to produce the letter , — 
the letter never was produced. Mr. Fox, Mr. Courtney^ 



RIGHT HON. EI>MUND BUEKE. 343 

Mr. Lee, reiterated the charge of breach of veracity on 
other points. These circumstances account, in some 
measure, for Mr. Burke's aversion to the new Minister ; 
that he thought his own motives pure there is no doubt, 
for he could not, he said, give a stronger instance of sin- 
cerity, than, with a small fortune and large family, to sa- 
crifice a lucrative office to public principle ; and to the 
moment of the Usher of the Black Rod arriving to sum- 
mon the House to hear the prorogation, he did not cease 
from strong animadversion. 

On the re-assembling of Parliament, December 5th, 
1782, he assailed the speech and its authors, on that and 
the following days, with a flow of wit and ridicule, which 
kept the House in a continual roar of laughter; at other 
times, particularly on the 11th, varying his attack by in- 
vective, or serious argument. On the former occasions, 
Mr. Pitt, the new Chancellor of the Exchequer, seemed 
nettled into something like petulant and angry observa- 
tions. 

The Minister, who had in the mean time signed the 
preliminaries of peace, discovering his deficiency in par- 
liamentary strength, deputed Mr, Pitt toward the end of 
autumn, to wait personally on Mr. Fox in the last private 
interview these eminent men ever had, to attempt a re- 
conciliation ; the latter however would not hear of Lord 
Shelburne remaining at the head of the Treasury. On 
the contrary, he preferred a junction with L')rl North, 
who, by the numbers still attached to him in ihe House, 
held the balance between Ministry and Opposition ; and, 
by throwing his weight into the latter scale, formed that 
celebrated coalition which, by the vote of the 21st of 
February, condemning the peace, threw out the Ministry, 
and succeeded to their places. The Paymaster-general 
resumed his office ; his brother Richard became one of 



S44 LIFE OF THE 

the secretaries to the Treasury, and, on the death of Lord 
Ashbnrton, Recorder of Bristol. 

Part of the odium of forming this amalgam of parties 
fell upon Mr. Burke, though with little justice; for though 
he concurred in it as a matter of necessity, he neither in- 
terfered much with the arrangements, nor defended it 
with his accustomed vigour; and had, in fact, strongly 
objected to it, till overpowered by the persuasions of Mr. 
Fox, who was both eloquent and urgent with him on the 
occasion. It is also true, that Lord Shelburne had made 
overtures previously to Lord North, to coalesce with 
him; it was, therefore, fighting the Minister with his own 
weapons. 

Mr. Eden, afterward Lord Auckland, was the first 
proposer, and direct mediator, in forming the coalition. 
Lord John Townshend, always distinguished for the 
strictest principle and integrity, avowed himself with 
pride one of the authors of it ; Lord Loughborough re- 
commended it; Mr. Sheridan, though doubtful at first, 
ultimately approved it; Colonels North and Fitzpatrick 
conducted the negociation to a successful conclusion; 
Mr. Fox himself nobly said, that his friendships were 
eternal, his enmities only momentary; and after forty 
years' experience and reflection. Lord Erskine* has 
found nothing in it to condemn. The true secret of the 
unpopularity of the coalition was the subsequent attempt 
to carry the India bill. 

Whatever share, therefore, belongs to Mr. Burke, in 
the business of the coalition — and it certainly was not 
great — he acted under the unanimous feeling of the lead- 
ing Members of his own party, and of all the Members 

* A few hours after this was written, the death of this distin- 
guished lawyer was announced in the newspapers. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE, 2W 

of that with which they joined. He had, in fact, fewer 
reasons for avoiding it than Mr. Fox. Once or twice, 
indeed, he had threatened Lord North with impeachment; 
at other times he paid many comphments to his personal 
integrity and amenity of manners, while the IVIinister as 
if to evince the propriety of the latter compHment often 
rendered justice to the splendid powers of his adversary, 
even in moments when most severely assailed by him; 
and in the earlier periods of his power, kind offices had 
not unfrequently passed between them. The dislike of 
Mr. Burke was political, pointing solely at the Minister; 
that of Mr. Fox was political, and personal to the man. 
He had said that the Minister's blood ought to expiate 
his misdeeds — that he was the greatest criminal in the 
State — that he would be afraid to trust himself with him 
alone — and that, if he ever acted with him he would be 
content to be thought for ever infamous; intemperate and 
inconsiderate assertions which his own generous nature 
was the first to condemn. For using them, Lord North 
frankly forgave him; for recanting them, the public 
never did. 

One of the first acts of the Paymaster-General, and for 
which he incurred considerable censure, was to restore 
Messrs. Powell and Bembridge, cashier and accountant 
of the office, who had been dismissed by Colonel Barre 
for alleged mal-practices. His feelings in this instance 
mastered his prudence. The truth was, he did not be- 
lieve them personally guilty, from the unreserved disclo- 
sures they had made to him of the affairs of the office ; he 
conceived it also a design on the part of Lord Shelburne 
and his friends, to lessen the popularity of Mr. Fox by 
throwing imputations on the memory of his father, whose 
accounts formed the subject of dispute ; and still more, 
the accused had furnished useful information to him for 
his Reform bill. 



2iQ LIFE OF THE 

He opposed, on the 7th of May, in an excellent speech, 
the fragments of which appear in his Works, Mr. Pitt's 
motion for Parliamentary Reform. The latter took an 
opportunity of retaliating, on an accusation advanced 
against the Paymaster of altering and expunging clauses 
according to his own taste, in a bill connected with his 
office; and though the Speaker pointed out the miscon- 
ception of the Member who made the charge, Mr. Pitt 
clung to it with some pertinacity as a handle for censure; 
—so little do statesmen in opposition differ, when the 
object is to criminate the more fortunate possessor of 
power. 

In the midst of this jarring and contention, Mr Burke, 
as is generally believed, found time to address a long 
and interesting though anonymous paper to Barry, con- 
taining free but friendly criticisms on his great pictures, 
then exhibiting in the rooms of the Society of Arts. The 
ability shown by the writer interested the painter so much, 
that he eagerly returned an answer, as directed, to the 
bar of the Cocoa Tree, soliciting acquaintance or further 
correspondence; no rejoinder was^ever made, nor the 
actual author positively known, but adding to his acknow- 
ledged love for the arts, the regard shown for the indivi- 
dual to whom it was addressed, with the internal evi- 
dence of style and matter, the writer could be no other 
than his great patron. His reasons for not avowing him- 
self were probably a desire to avoid unprofitable personal 
argument with an intractable spirit; or to prevent any 
increase of that unreasonable jealousy felt by the latter at 
bis intimacy with Sir Joshua Reynolds, from whom he 
might think the observations addressed to him, came. 
Of this jealousy, Barry, who was in temper the Rosseau 
of painters, could not divest himself, thinking his patron's 
friendship for the great artist of the age, a degree of ne- 
gleet shown to his own fame and merits. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 217 

The recess of Parliament was devoted to the concoc- 
tion of the celebrated India bill, of which Mr. Burke is 
said to have been a joint penman with the reputed author, 
though this has never been proved. It is certain indeed 
that he was the only one of the Ministry who knew much 
of the matter in progress previous to its coming before 
the public, and it is also certain that it was submitted to 
his revision; he might likewise have been the author of 
the second or supplementary bill, ascertaining the powers 
of the new Government, and securing the rights and in- 
terests of the natives ; but all the great and leading prin- 
ciples were undoubtedly those of Mr. Fox. 

The bold and innovating features of the measure bore 
little resemblance to the usual cautious legislation of the 
member for Malton ; neither is it probable that he who 
was never accused of egotism, should applaud so highly 
what, if the allegation were true, must have been so much 
indebted to his own hand; and in addition, it may be 
observed, that in a debate ten years afterwards on another 
subject, he said, he remembered that Mr. Fox's attention 
was so much taken up in 1783 with his India bill, that 
he could attend to nothing else. Such an assertion in his 
presence, and when they were no longer intimate, would 
scarcely have been hazarded had the speaker himself 
been equally concerned. 

The motives which dictated this important measure, 
however misrepresented at the time, ought no longer to 
be matter of doubt. It is the idlest of all things in a 
country like England, to talk of a preconcerted scheme 
to overawe the King, annihilate the prerogative, render 
the voice of the people nugatory, or fix any ministry per- 
petually in place ; assertions which may serve a moment- 
ary purpose, but are unworthy of the pen of history; and 
their best refutation is to be found in the circumstances 



248 LIFE OF THE 

that followed the attempt to carry this very bill. The 
administration of the government of India could not well 
be worse conducted. Its proceedings for more than twenty 
years had called forth constant animadversion in Parlia-^ 
ment, and in the nation; and had even become a source 
of reproach with foreigners upon our national fame and 
character for justice. Nothing could be more self-evident 
than the necessity for some reform. 

The mode of reform now attempted was quite another 
matter. It bore the stamp of a great, an energetic, an 
inventive, but an arbitrary mind. It imparted to the 
legislature a new power unknown to the constitution, of 
appointing the commissioners who were to exercise the 
functions of government over that vast continent; it an- 
nihilated with little preface or apology the chartered rights 
of the India Company ; took from it the management of 
its property by open force ; offered no compromise; sooth- 
ed no objections or prejudices; and attempted no conci- 
liation; the principle, and the mode of carrying it into 
effect, were equally objectionable. It was distinguished 
bv another striking pecuharit}- — for it had the effect of 
uniting the King and the people for the first time against 
a majority of the House of Commons. 

Mr. Burke, seeing through a different medium, urged 
its success with all his powers. He reserved himself 
chiefly for the second reading, the 1st of December, 1783, 
when, in a crowded house prepared to hear something 
uncommon, he delivered one of those surprising orations, 
which, in vigour, in ingenuity, and in that forcible yet 
expansive grasp with which he usually fastens on a sub- 
ject, seemed to leave the energies of other tnen far behind. 

Disclaiming several questionable arguments urged in 
its support, his reasoning turns principally on the necessity 
of the measure — the breach of the articles of its charter 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. S49 

by the Company, and consequently, as in other agree- 
ments, the nullity of the compact — the enormous abuses 
of power by the Company's servants — the utter inability 
for a series of years to correct these abuses, by remon- 
strance, or censure, or execration ; by the voice of the 
nation, by the voice of Parliament, by the voice of the 
directors of the company themselves, by the voice of 
many of the highest servants of that Company on the 
spot where the abuses were committed. It was only from 
a conviction that the system was wholly incorrigible, that 
he, for one, would ever lend his hand to the subversion 
of that or anv other established mode of government. 
The present bill would guard against future robberies 
and oppressions, and its highest honour and title would 
be that of securing the rice in his pot to every man in 
India. 

" The most ignorant individual in the House," says a 
contemporary member, " who had attended to the mass 
of information which fell from the lips of Burke on that 
occasion, must have departed rich in knowledge of Hiu- 
dostan. It seemed impossible to crowd greater variety 
of matter applicable to the subject into smaller compas-; 
and those who differed most widely from him in opinion, 
did not render the less justice to his gigantic range of 
ideas, his lucid exposition of events, and the harmonic 
flow of his periods." 

" The speech of Mr. Burke," in the words of another 
contemporary, *' upon this grand turning point of the 
administration, was perhaps the most beautiful, Siiblime, 
and finished composition that his studies and his labours 
had produced." 

While his zeal and eloquence assisted to propel the 
bill through the Commons, he was seen along with Mr, 
Fox, standing on the steps of the throne, in the other 
I i 



Si70 LIFE OF THE 

House, during the discussion, anxious and ai^itated, striv- 
ing !)y the influence of personal character and talents to 
do the same service in the Lords. Other and superior 
influence, however, was also at work. The King, more 
alarmed for his authority than perhaps the occasion re- 
quired, exerting his natural weight among the Peers, 
caused the bill to be thrown out, and immediately flung 
the Ministry after it, by a message to the Secretaries of 
State, at one o'clock in the morning of the 19th of De- 
cember, to deliver up the seals of office : thus this famous 
measure, ujion v. hich so much labour and talent had been 
expended, became the lever by which to prize its authors 
out of office. 

The three months' struggle which ensued bet^veen 
Mr. Pitt, who accepted the Treasury, and the Opposi- 
tion who constandy outvoted, censured, and threatened 
him with even weightier proofs of disapprobation, has lit- 
tle to do with the personal history of Mr. Burke, who 
exerted himself less on this than on any other great 
emergency of his political life. He probably felt the 
force of the difficulty — that the King had an undoubted 
right to choose his own Minister, and against the Minis- 
ter so chosen no specific offence could be alleged ; the 
weight of the argument, therefore, was against them. It 
is also true that he always thouglu and always said that 
Mr. Pitt had w orked himself into office unfairly, if not 
U!iconstitutionally. 

Mr. Fox f(;ught this unprecedented political battle 
with uncommon skill ; and Mr. Pitt kept his ground with 
equal ingenuity, courage, and perseverance, backed by 
the favour and exhortations of his Majesty, who had taken 
so strong an antipathy to the ft)rmer gentleman, that sooner 
than agriin receive him as first minister, he had expressed 
a determination to quit England for Hanover, Persever- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE, 251 

ance rendered this sin|jjular resolution unnecessary, for the 
Opposition rriajority gradually dvvindlins;^ from 54 to 1, 
Parlianient was dissolved in March, 1784; the new 
elections ran every where in favour of Ministry, attended 
by every symptom of popular sympathy and satisH^ction, 
no less than 160 of their opponents being thrown out. 

Mr. Pitt, who accomplished this victory, was one of 
those rare examples of men who, by the union of uncom- 
mon talents with peculiar good fortune, seem cut out by 
nature to influence or to govern kingdoms. He was a 
lucky man, hou ever, before he was a great one ; his good 
fortune placed him in a station which, at this period of 
life, and little i cquaintance with the public, he had no 
reason to expect ; his talents enabled him to maintain the 
important post he had thus gained. It was an unprece- 
dented occurrence in this, or perhaps any other European 
country, to see almost a boy placed at the head of public 
affairs ; to see him snatch it from grey-headed experience 
and unquestioned fame ; to retain it from youth to man- 
hood, and from manhood to the borders of age, with no 
diminution of royal or popular favour, rendering the State, 
in more than one sense, a species of patrimonial inheri- 
tance. 

In looking back to the first view, and of course more 
inexperienced years of his administration, it is impossible 
not to admire the skill, the mingled prudence, and mode- 
ration, with which it was even then conducted. He had 
to provide a government for India, to revive trade, to re- 
gulate and increase the revenue, and to restore many other 
national interests nearly ruined by the American war. 
He had to face in Parliament a combination of by f^r the 
ablest men this country ever saw, sometimes indeed 
in vehement contention, sometimes anticipating, some- 
times bending to their suggestions, but commonly hold- 



S5S LIFE OF THE 

ing the even tenor of his way so wisely, that they had few 
substantial opportunities for findini^ fault. To uphold 
hinn, indeed, he enjoyed in an unusuil degree the patron- 
age of the people and the King; yet without such a firm 
hold upon either, on the ground of established reputation 
or j^revious services, as to be certain of its continuance, 
withoLit the exertion on his own part of great political 
dexterity. Taken as if were upon trial, he had his cha- 
racter to acquire ; his father's name, however, was a tower 
of strength, and the first and readiest passport to public 
esteem. 

To both King and people it was obviously necessary 
for him to pay assiduo-.s court, and he did this without 
any seeming art or effort, oscillating to one side or the 
other as circumstances required ; in favour with both, 
yet subservient to neither, though exposed occasionally 
to the accusation of insincerity. If to the popular side 
he gave his vole, to the other he was charged with lend- 
ing his influence — a charge certainly unjust ; yet, even 
if true, the former might be an assertion of principle, the 
latter possibly an unavoidable sacrifice to expediency, 
which every Minister, and almost every man, must occa- 
sionally make in his connexion with office or with the 
world. Up to the period of the French Revolution he 
had an arduous part to play in Parliament, and he played 
it well ; after that event he gained an accession of strength 
which fixed him more firmly in his seat than ever. His 
manners were somewhat distant, with neither the amenity 
of Fox nor the frankness of Burke. His moral character 
stood high ; his prudence, the better part of talents per- 
haps as well as of courage, v\as felt ; his personal disin- 
terestedness experienced and acknowledged ; his recti- 
tude of intention universally believed. Altogether, the 
estimation in which he was held as a public and private 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 253 

man, carried him through even the disasters of the French 
war with little decrease of popularity. 

His eloquence was that of business— precise, logical, 
singularly fluent, with a command and choice of the very 
best words, hitched into the very best places, which the 
most gifted men rarely possess, and to which a tall figure, 
and fined toned voice^ gave irresistible effect. It was de- 
ficient, however, in variety, in splendour, in felicity of 
illustration, in what may be termed those flashes of ge- 
nius, which not only throw light on an intricate and difli- 
cult point, but sometimes succeed in cutting the knot ol 
a sophism, which cannot be clearly unravelled ; it dealt 
little in classical quotation or allusion, though he was an 
excellent classic ; it did not seem so much the emanation 
of a vast and comprehensive, as of a bounded but admi- 
rably-regulated intellect. There is in it little of passion, 
and few of those overwhelming bursts which surprise us 
frequently in Burke, and sometime&jn Fox; in all these 
respects he was perhaps inferior to both, particularly to 
the former, and more especially in wit, sarcasm (though 
his sarcasms were frequent and bitter,) and in vigour and 
fertility of imagination. He adheres indeed closer to the 
point than either, but on the whole warms and interests 
us less, possibly from standing on the defensive. At the 
same time there was in his speeches a simplicity and seem- 
ing integrity of manner that won confidence to what he 
said ; and, besides being more brief than those of his 
great rivals, he possessed the still greater merit in the eyes 
of a cautious politician — that of never committing him- 
self, of not saying too much or too little on doubtful points, 
of being able at any time to deliver " a King's Speech 
offhand." Few had more power over the House of 
Commons, where his speeches told with great effect. 
But though of a quite different character from those of his 



251 LIFE OF THE 

father, they are likely to share the same fate as composi- 
tions — that is, never to be consulted a second time for 
any extraordinary oriajinality of thought, exhibitions of 
genius, or the very highest attributes of eloquence. 

In the new Parliament, which met in May, 1784, the 
chief effort of the late Paymaster was in moving (June 
14th) a representation to the King on the late dissolution ; 
" a paper," said Mr. Fox, some years afterwards, *' which 
Avould make the fame of some men, but which in the num- 
ber and excellence of Mr. Burke's productions was, per- 
haps, scarcely remembered.*^ He predicted several of 
the inefficiencies of Mr. Pitt's India bill, v\hich a very 
competent judge,* in a passing tribute to his memory as 
one of the w isest men and greatest orators of our country, 
says, have been realised to the letter. 

He was not viewed, however, with much favour by 
n^any of the new Members of the House. In common 
with Mr. Fox, he had incurred considerable odium, but, 
unlike him, had taken no pains to work it off;, His habits 
being more retired, he did not now, or at any time, suffi- 
ciently court intercourse and familiarity with one class of 
society , or the bustle and noisy freedom, the shaking of 
hands, and hoisting upon shoulders of another ; the latter, 
in fact, were not much to his taste. So strong was the 
prejudice, or, as it was considered, combination against 
him in the House, that the moment of his rising became 
a signal for coughing, or other symptoms of pointed dis- 
like. The speech introducing the representation to the 
King was not replied to, and towards its conclusion was 
received with affected laughter. On three India ques- 
tions of minor moment, whether owing to the unpopu- 
larity of himself, or of the subject, he was overpowered 

* Sir John Malcolm.— Political History of India. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 2ii5 

by continued and violent vociferation. And on another 
of these occasions, instead of threatening, like a distin- 
guished modern leader* of Opposition, not lont^ ago, 
when similarly assailed, " to speak for three hours lon- 
ger," he stopped short in his argument to remark, that 
" he could teach a pack of hounds to yelp with more me- 
lody and equal comprehension." 

At another time, having occasion to rise with papers 
in his hand, a rough hewn country gentleman, who had 
more ear perhaps for this melody of the hounds than for 
political discussion, exclaimed with something of a look 
of despair, " I hope the Honourable Gentleman does not 
mean to read that large bundle of papers, and bore us 
with a long speech into the bargain." Mr. Burke was 
so swoln, or rather so nearly suffocated, with rage, that, 
utterly incapable of utterance, he ran out of the House. 
" Never before," said the facetious George Selwyn, who 
told the story with great effect, " did I see the fable real- 
ised — a lion put to flight by the braying of an ass." 

Muzzling the lion was in fact the colloquial term used 
at the time for these attempts to prevent him from speak- 
ing ; and as several of Mr. Pitt's younger friends were 
among the principal actors concerned, the Minister was 
accused of promoting it. It is certain that he then 
thought him his most formidable opponent, chiefly on ac- 
count of the variety of his powers, which made it diffi- 
cult to give him, what Mr. Fox's more straight-forward 
mode of attack commonly received, a complete answer. 
The same reason, that of muzzling the lion towards him- 
self, has been assigned for the Minister allowing the in- 
quiry into the conduct of Mr. Hastings to go on, after 
having in the first instance decidedly put his face against it. 

* Right Honourable George Tierney. 



S56 LIFE OF THE 

An able anonymous writer of that day expresses his 
surprise at the indecorous interruptions " given to a man 
possessed of an eloquence with which all that remains of 
antiquity must lose in the competition ;" but the truth 
was, they had been so frequent towards other popular 
men, that on a motion by Sir Georj^e Saville, a session 
or two before, the curious spectacle was exhibited of the 
Speaker, (Mr. Cornwall) severely reprimanding a large 
body of Members in a long speech, as " a set of gentle- 
men who spent most of their time elsewhere, and did not 
deem it necessary to attend to any part of the debate, in 
order that they might decide with decency, or vote with 
conviction/^ 

In <he month of April, when, on account of being so 
lately ejected from office and from public favour, an act 
of respect became additionally kind, the University of 
Glasgow elected Mr. Burke its Lord Rector, and re-elect- 
ed him in the following November. His installation drew 
a large concourse of spectators, including all distinguished 
for rank or eminence in the surrounding country, anxious 
to see a man of whom they had heard so much ; several 
of the literati, among whom was Professor Dugald Stew- 
art, accompanied him from Edinburgh. An elegant 
speech exj)ressed his thanks for the honour done him, 
his regard for the learning and talent assembled within 
the walls in which they were, and esteem for the na- 
tional character, by which he confessed he had been fa- 
vourably impressed. *' They are a people/' said he, in 
a conversation with Mr. Windham, " acute and proud, 
of infinite pretension, and no inconsiderable [jerformance; 
and, notwithstanding their offensive egotism and nation- 
ality, which it seems a point of conscience to push down 
every body's throat, on the whole very estimable." He 
afterwards took a tour to the Highlands, and found not 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. S57 

only an increase of pleasure, but of health, fron. the jour- 
•ney. 

In the autumn, his house at Beaconsfielcl was entered 
in the night, and robbed of a quantity of plate and other 
articles of value ; in allusion to the conveyance which it 
appeared brought the thieves from London, and carried 
them and their booty back, he used familiarly to term it 
the curricle robbery. Not long afterwards he found 
time to draw up for a distant relation, Mr. E. P. Burke, 
the outline of a course of " Lectures on Arts, Manufac- 
tures, and Commerce," intended to be filled up and de- 
livered by that gentleman at Merchant Taylor's Hall, 
Bristol; they are said to have borne the stamp of his cha- 
racteristic genius, knowledge, and comprehensive ac- 
quaintance with commercial princii:)les and history. 

About the same time, death withdrew from the world 
his old acquaintance Dr. Johnson, from whom, in the vi- 
cissitudes of 27 years, no estrangement occurred to inter- 
rupt their mutual admiration and regard. Visiting him 
in his last illness, with some other friends, Mr. Burke re- 
marked, that the presence of strangers might be oppres- 
sive to him. " No, Sir," said the dying moralist, " it is 
not so ; and I must be in a wretched state indeed, when 
your company would not be a delight to me." He fol- 
lowed him to the grave as a mourner ; and in contemplat- 
ing his character, applied to it a fine passage from Cicero, 
which might equally suit his own — Intentum enhn ani- 
mum quasi arcum habebat^ nee laiijfuescens succumbebat 
senecfuti. — When some one censured Johnson's general 
rudeness in society, he replied with equal consideration 
and truth, "It is well, when a man comes to die, if he 
has nothing worse to accuse himself of than some harsh- 
ness in conversation." He often remarked that Johnson 
was greater in discourse than even in writing, and that 
Kk 



^58 LIFE OF THE 

Boswell's Life was the best record of his powers ; in 
1790, he became one of the committee formed to erect a 
statue to his memory.* 

During the summer, he received a visit from his old 
friend Mr. Shackleton and his daughter, an ingenious 
lady, already introduced to the reader under the name of 
Leadbeater, who, charmed with the situation, wrote a 
short poem descriptive of the scenery, the mansion, and 
a faithful sketch of its owner, of which the following 
forms the introduction. 

All hail, ye woods, in deepest gloom array'd ! 
Admit a stranger through your rev'rend shade; 
With timid step to seek the fair retreat, 
Where Virtue and where Genius fix their seat : 
In vain retiring from the public gaze. 
Not deepest shades can veil so bright a blaze. 

Lo ! there the mansion stands in princely pride ; 
The beauteous wings extend on either side ; 
Unsocial pomp flies from the cheerful gate. 
Where hospitality delights to wait; 
A brighter grace her candid smile bestows. 
Than the majestic pillar's comely rows. 
Enter these ever-open doors and find 
All that can strike the eye, or charm the mind : 
Painting and sculpture there their pride display. 
And splendid chambers deck'd in rich array. 



* The late Dr. Joseph Warton, in a note to his edition of Dry- 
den's Poetical Works, speaking of Dr. Johnson's criticisms, says, 

" I have been censured, I am informed, for contradicting some 
of Johnson's critical opinions. As I knew him well, I ever re- 
spected his talents, and more so his integrity ; but a love of para- 
dox and contradiction, at the bottom of which was vanity, gave 
an unpleasant tincture to his manners, and made his conversa- 
tion boisterous and offensive. I often used to tell the mild and 
sensible Sir Joshua Reynolds, that he and his friends had con- 
tributed to spoil Johnson, by constantly and cowardly assenting 
to all he advanced on any subject. Mr. Burke alone kept him 

IN ORDER." 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 359 

But these are not the honours of the dome 
Where Burke resides, and strangers find a home ; 
To whose glad hearth the social virtues move, 
Paternal fondness and connubial love. 
Benevolence unwearied, friendship true. 
And wit unforced, and converse ever new. 
And manners, where the polished court we trace. 
Combined with artless nature's noble grace. 

When the sad voice of indigence he hears. 
And pain and sickness, eloquent in tears — 
Forsakes the festive board with pitying eyes. 
Mingles the healing draught '^ and sickness flies j 
Or, if the mind be torn with deep distress. 
Seeks, with kind care, the ^-ievance to redress. 
This, this is Edmund Burke — and this his creed— 
This 13 sublime and beautiful indeed. 

Mr. Burke wrote the following letter in reply : 

"My dear Miss Shackleton, 
" I ought not to have suffered myself to remain so long 
at a disadvantage in your mind. My fault is considerable, 
but not quite so great as it appears ; for your letter went 
round by way of Carlisle, and it was a good while before 
it came to my hands. It ought indeed to have been my 
care to have made the earliest possible acknowledgment, 
where nothing more was required ; and in a case where, 
indeed, there was little more in my power to do than to 
tell you, in a few plain and sincere words, how extremely 
sensible I was of the honour you have done me, by 

* There was in this (as indeed in every other part of the charac- 
ter) something more than mere poetic compliment of the fair 
authoress. In illness, he used to administer medicine to his 
family and household ; and on one occasion having given Mrs, 
Burke a wrong one, he suffered great mental agony for a few 
hours, till assured that no ill consequences were likely to arise 
from it. 



260 LIFE OF THE 

making this family and this place the subject of some of 
the most beautiful and most original verses that have for 
many years been made upon any place or any persons. 

" They make us all a little more fond of ourselves, 
and of our situation. For my own part I will not com- 
plain, that when you have drawn a beautiful landscape, 
you have put an old friend of your father's as a figure in 
the fore-ground ; nor shall I pretend that I am not pleased 
even with the excess of partiality, which has made him 
an object worthy of appearing in such a scene. The 
scene itself, fine as it is, owes much to the imagination 
and skill of the painter; but the figure owes all to it. You 
great artists never draw what is before you, but improve 
it up to the standard of perfection in your own minds. 
In this description I know nothing of myself; but what 
is better, and may be of more use, I know what a good 
judge thinks I ought to be. 

" As to your picture of this part of the country, I can- 
not help observing, that there is not the least of common- 
place in it. One cannot apply it equally to every country, 
as most things j^ this kind may be turned. It is parti- 
cular and appropriated ; and that, without being minute 
or tedious in the detail. Indeed, it is a sweet poem; 
and shows a mind full of observation, and retentive of 
images in the highest degree. Some of the lines are not 
quite so finished as to match the rest; and some time 
or other, I may take the liberty of pointing them out to 
you ; and some of the rhymes hitch upon words, to which 
nothing (not even you) can give grace. But these are 
lesser blemishes ; and easily effaced either by omission 
era trivial change. You will excuse this freedom. But 
in so fine a poem, in which your kindness for an old friend 
of your father has given me so great an interest, you will 
naturally expect that I should wish for the perfection 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 261 

which I know you can give your work with a little more 
of your care. 

" Pray excuse this very late and very imperfect ac- 
knowledgment of the great favour you have done me. 
I cannot plead business in favour of my delay. I have 
had a great deal of leisure time. At the moment 1 write 
tiiis, I never was more busy in my life ; and, indeed, thus 
much is in favour of activity and occupation, that the 
more one- has to do, the more one is capable of doing, 
even beyond our direct task. I am ever, with Mrs. 
Burke's, my brother's, and my son's most affectionate 
regards to you, and to all Ballitore, which we love with 
great sincerity, my dear Miss Shackleton, 
" Your most faithful and most obliged 
" And obedient humble servant, 

" Edmund Burke. 
" Beaconsfield, Dec. ISth, 1784." 



CHAPTER IX. 

Speech on the A'abob of Arcoi's Debts, — Impeachment of 
Mr, Hastings.— Visit to Ireland by Mr. Burke. — Mr. 
Hardfs Account of him. — Preface to Bellendenus. — 
Epitaph on the Marquis of Rockingham. 

In the Session of 1785, commencing the 25th of 
January, Mr. Burke took some part in the Westminster 
scrutiny (in which affair the Minister was accused of 
shoAving as much unworthy resentment to Mr. Fox, as 
toward the meifiber for Malton in the preceding session,) 
in the plan of a sinking fund, and in the Irish proposi- 
tions. On the latter question, though siding chiefly with 



26s LIFE OF THE 

Opposition, he did not take so active a part as was ex- 
pected, a feeling of delicacy preventing him, as he said, 
from balancing minutely and invidiously, conflicting 
claims between the country of his nativity, and that which 
had raised him from nothing to stations of high public 
trust and honour, with the power to legislate, not for any 
one class of persons, or for any one spot however dear 
that spot might be to him, but for the general interests of 
the kingdom at large. 

Mr. Pitt's proposal for reform in the representation 
drew from Mr. Burke some pointed animadversions, 
demanding how he^ of all men, could assume that the 
people were not sufficiently represented in that House, 
when he was daily in the habit of boasting that his own 
place and preponderance there, were solely owing to the 
voice of the people? On the bill of the minister for 
regulating the public offices, which Mr. Sheridan termed 
a mere rat-catching measure, he was equally severe. 
Contrasting its biting and impracticable economy with 
the profusion countenanced in India, which would ulti- 
mately fall on the shoulders of England, he used the 
following series of extraordinary figures; new and forci- 
ble indeed, conveying a striking impression to the mind, 
but objectionable from their number, and from following 
each other in such quick succession ; passages of this 
kind, however, are rare in his works : 

" He (Mr. Pitt) was desirous to draw a resource out 
of the crumbs dropped from the trenchers of penury. He 
was rasping from the marrowless bones of skeleton esta- 
blishments an empirical alimentary powder to diet into a 
similitude of health the languishing chimeras of fraudulent 
reformation. But while Parliament looked with anxiety 
at his desperate and laborious trifling, while they were 
apprehensive that he would break his back with stooping 



EIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 263 

to pick up chafF and straws, he recovers himself at an 
clastic bound ; and with a broadcast swing of his arm, 
he squandered over his Indian field a sum far greater than 
the amount of all these establishments added together." 

This Indian field now chiefly occupied Mr. Burke's 
thoughts, as he himself expressed it, " at all hours and 
seasons, in the retirements of summer, in the avocations 
of the winter, and even amid the snows (alluding to the 
ill reception he had experienced the preceding session) 
that had lately been showering on his head." On the 
first day of the session he moved an amendment to the 
Address, but did not press it, on account of the speech 
being silent on the affairs of India, subsequently support- 
ing motions by other members on the same fruitful sub- 
ject. 

But his great effort, February 28th, was on the debts 
of the Nabob of Arcot, one of those remarkable outpour- 
ings of a most fertile and vigorous intellect, which, on an 
unpromising theme, and under the disadvantage of rising 
last in the debate, seemed to combine all that could in- 
struct, dazzle, and even overpower the hearer. It has 
been said to be in some parts florid. But in energy, in 
rhetorical address, in a minute knowledge of India, and 
especially the intricacies of the question itself, in the bold- 
ness of his attacks upon those of the Company's servants 
who were considered by their intrigues to have laid the 
foundation of these debts, in the clearness of his narrative 
and detail, it was rated equal to any thing ever delivered 
in Parliament. The oppressions exercised upon a neigh- 
bouring state, Tanjore, by the Nabob and his agents, had 
already produced much animadversion, and Mr. Burke 
being well informed of the circumstances from private 
information, as well as public documents, characterised 
the chief agent and counsellor of his highness on these 



26*4 LIFE OP THE 

occasions, Mr. Paul Benfield, as " the old betrayer, insul- 
ter, oppressor, and scourge, of a country which has for 
years been an object of an unremitted, but unhappily an 
unequal struggle, between the bounties of Providence to 
renovate, and the wickedness of mankind to destroy." — • 
Some of the spirit of the speech is said to have evaporated 
in the printed report. 

Shortly after this period he suffered great agony of 
mind for some time, in consequence of a newspaper ac- 
count of the loss, in a violent storm off the coast of Hol- 
land, of a Harwich packet, in which his son had embark- 
ed for the continent. Fortunately the report proved un- 
true ; he arrived in safety, and after visiting Holland, 
Flanders, and some of the adjoining states, was received 
with some distinction in the Court and capital of France. 
During his father's tenure of power, he had been appoint- 
ed Joint-Receiver with Dr. King of the revenues of the 
Crown Lands, held for life ; and after the death of the 
Marquis of Rockingham, Earl Fitzwilliam had made 
him auditor of his accounts. 

It was at the opening of the next session, January 24th, 
1786, that Mr. Burke entered on one of the most tem- 
pestuous scenes of his life — nearly the whole of which 
was a political storm — in the prosecution of Mr. Hast- 
ings, late Governor General of India, who had recently 
arrived in England. 

Much consideration is necessary adequately to appre- 
ciate the degree of moral courage requisite for this un- 
dertaking, nothing so arduous or laborious having ever 
fallen to the lot of a member of the English Legislature; 
for though the work was divided, much the greater part 
unavoidably fell to his share. It demanded not only un- 
common capacity of mind, but the most effective and po- 
pular and Parliamentary working talents ; an utter disre- 



RIGHT HOTSr. EDMUND BURKE. 265 

gard of difficulty ; a vast fund of local knowledge ; a per- 
severance in mental and bodily labour not to be conquer- 
ed ; a contempt for obloquy and reproach of every kind ; 
an acquaintance with the powers, interests, habits, actual 
condition, intrigues, and even villanies of nearly all In- 
dia, such as no man, and scarcely any body of men out of 
the country, could be expected to possess. 

The accused, besides, was no inconsiderable man. He 
was supposed to possess the personal good opinion of the 
King.* He had acquired the favour of the Board of 
Control. He enjoyed the support of the India Compa- 
ny, which had profited by his sway. He had aggran- 
dised the nation itself, which, satisfied with its acquisi- 
tions, felt little curiosity to inquire into the means ; and 
in fact the subject, for tv\ o or three years before, would 
scarcely be listened to in Parliament. He had governed 
a vast empire for a series of years, and was of course en- 
abled to profit by the weight, in all cases great, which 
authority bestows. He had not only amassed a compe- 
tent fortune himself, but, what was of more consequence 
to his political interest, had enriched more men than any 
half dozen Prime Ministers of England put together. 
He had necessarily many friends and a vast number of 
apologists, several in Parliament, others in different situ- 
ations of influence, who, from the oblique morality with 
which all India questions were treated, scarcely consider- 
ed as improprieties there, what in England they would 
have stigmatised as unquestionable crunes. In addition 
to all these, the evidence had to come from a vast dis- 

* During; the trial, a caricature was exhibited cf Mr. Hastings 
trundling His Majesty in a wheelbarrow, with the label, " What 
a man buys he may sell." " Well," said the Kinggood-humuur- 
edly on seeing it, "I have been represented in many extraordi- 
nary situations, but in a wheelbarrow is really something new." 
L I 



:^60 Lli'E OF THE 

tance ; qualified by some who thought the blame ought 
rather to fall on the agents than on the principal ; by 
some who hesitated to condemn proceedings which had 
been the source of their own gain ; by some who shrunk 
from the odium of coming forward, or being considered 
as pubh'c accusers ; all which circumstances were ob- 
served to operate powerfully in the subsequent evidence 
given upon the trial of the Governor General. 

Against all these considerations, against the opinion of 
some of his own party, and in some degree against his 
own personal interests, Mr. Burke obstinately persever- 
ed, winning the nation over to his opinion before the end 
of the session, and what was of no less consequence, con- 
straining the Minister, from marked hostility to the in- 
quiry at first, to the observance of rigid impartiality. If 
he eventually failed in convicting the accused on account 
of legal technicalities, it is less matter for wonder, than 
that under so many obstacles, and in the teeth of so many 
powerful interests, he could carry the cause to a decision. 
But the sentence of the House of Lords was a matter of 
minor importance in his opinion, for the moment the im- 
peachment was voted by the Commons, he felt that the 
great end for which he undertook it — public justice, was 
answered. 

To those who knew little of his character, the motive 
for this gratuitous labour remained a puzzle, or was 
solved by the silly idea unworthy of notice, that it arose 
from a slight shown by the Governor General to Mr. 
William Bourke. It is possible, remembering how the 
inquiry was approved by Mr. Fox, that some latent feel- 
ing existed of indirectly justifying the India bill, by ex- 
posing more fully to general indignation the enormities 
that measure was meant to correct. Bi.t the great and 
direct inducement, beyond all question, was a detestation 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 267 

of any thin,^ like oppression or injustice inherent in the 
man ; not simply as a moral principle, but an inp;rafted 
feeling ; ardent, and perhaps too unrestrained for the im- 
posing^ station he occupied in the country, but which had 
been shown in all the chief actions of his life, public and 
private ; in upholding against oppression the Commons 
of America at one time — and the King, Nobilify, and 
Clergy of France, at another ; in resenting the tyranny 
attempted to be exercised over him by Mr. Hamilton in 
the early part of his life, and what he considered the 
harshness, reproach, and injury shown him by Mr. Fox, 
and others of the party, towards its decline ; *' in whose 
breast," as he subsequently said of himself, " no anger, 
durable or vehement, has ever been kindled but by what 
he considered as tyranny." His philanthropy and inte- 
grity were constantly eulogised in the House of Com- 
mons by all the eminent men most opposed to him on 
public affairs, and never more so than during the whole 
progress of this prosecution. 

It is necessary also to remember that it was no sudden 
burst of passion, no transient or immediate feeling of re- 
sentment, but adopted after much and serious delibera- 
tion. Since 1780, when, as a member of the Select Com- 
mittee of the House of Commons, the conduct of Mr. 
Hastings had been attacked and investigated before him, 
he had constantly recommended his recal, and expressed 
an opinion that he deserved punishment. He had no 
other dislike to that gentleman, he said, than a conviction 
of his mis-government, persevered in against repeated 
remonstrances and orders ; he knew nothing otherwise 
of him; he, and the rest of the Committee, had begun 
with Sir Elijah Impey, and only picked up Mr. Hastings 
in their way. His attention being thus excited to a sub- 
ject so important to the good of our Indian empire, there 



S68 LIFE OP THE 

appeared ample matter for further inquiry, as almost 
every fresh arrival from the East added to the list of al- 
leo;ed oppressions or offences by the Governor General. 
Strong dissatisfaction, alternating with votes ot approba- 
tion, had been expressed at his conduct previous to this, 
by the Court of Directors ; but orders for recal were 
so intermingled with orders to remain, that to many, not 
in the secret, the proceedings at the India House became 
a riddle ; — -the main solution of which was, that the Di- 
rectors thought many of his measures wrong, and de- 
sired his return ; the Proprietors simply found them pro- 
fitable, and therefore wished him to remain. 

In 1776, the former voted his recal ; the latter rescind- 
ed the order. Shortly afterward, Mr. Grant and Mr. 
Macleane, a former friend of Mr. Burke and now the 
confidential agent of Mr. Hastings, arrived and tendered 
the resignation of the latter, which vi^as accepted ; but 
the Governor General, finding himself taken at his word, 
denied having given that genUeman any such authority, 
and resolutely kept his station ; and as Mr. Macleane 
was lost on his return to India, this extraordinary mis- 
understanding was never explained to the world. In 
1779, 1780, 1781, in settling the government, he was con- 
tinued. In 1782, Mr. Dundas, as chairman of the Secret 
Committee, moved a string of the severest resolutions 
against him, and among others his recal which was or- 
dered accordingly ; but the Proprietors having then the 
power, by the constitution of the Company, again nega- 
tived the order. At length, in February, 1785, he quitted 
Bengal of his own accord, just as Lord Macartney had^ 
been appointed to it from Madras, but whose assumption 
of the supreme authority it was declared Mr. Hastings and 
his party had determined to resist even by force, had that 
nobleman reached Calcutta before he embarked. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 269 

On reaching England, the directors passed a vote of 
thanks for his long and meritorious services, though for 
years they had complained that his proceedings were ob- 
jectionable, that he despised their authority, and never 
paid any regard to their orders when at variance with his 
own opinion. And Mr. Dundas had already declared, 
that " Mr. Hastings rarely quitted Calcutta that his track 
was not followed by the deposition of some prince, the 
desertion of some ally, or the depopulation of some coun- 
try." 

All these circumstances, in addition to the specific of- 
fences laid to his charge, tended to confirm Mr. Burke 
in his purpose, and to lead him to believe that his motives 
at any rate for inquiring Into the conduct of such an im- 
perious servant could not be questioned. Alluding to 
these during the preliminary proceedings he observed : 

" Least of all could it be said, with any colour of truth, 
that he was actuated by passion. Anger, indeed, he had 
felt, but surely not a blameable anger ; for who ever 
heard of an inquiring anger, a digesting anger, a collating 
anger, an examining anger, or a selecting anger ? The 
anger he had felt w as an uniform, stead) , public princi- 
ple, without any private intermixture ; that an^^er, which 
five years ago warmed his breast, he felt precisely the 
same, and unimpaired, at that moment." 

" Let w ho will shrink back," said he, touching on the 
same theme, in 1785, " I shall be found at my post. 
Baffled, discountenanced, subdued, discredited, as the 
cause of justice and humanity is, it will be only the dear- 
er to me. Whoever, therefore, shall at any time bring 
^ ^m 'i^ b efore you any thing towards the relief of our distressed 
fellow-citizens in India, and towards the subversion of 
the present most corrupt and oppressive system for its 



270 LIFE OP THE 

government, in me shall find a weak I am afraid, but a 
steady, earnest, and faithful assistant." 

Ten years afterward, when the trial had been disposed 
of, he a^ain alluded to his motives. 

" Were I to call for a reward (which I have never 
done,) it should be for those (services) in which for four- 
teen years, without intermission, I have showed the most 
industry, and had the least success ; I mean in the affairs 
of India. They are those on which I value myself the 
most ; most for the importance ; most for the labour ; 
most for the judgment ; most for constancy and perseve- 
rance in their pursuit. Others may value them most for 
the intention. In that surely they are not mistaken." 

The obloquy cast on him during the trial, in books, 
p:;:nphlets, and newspapers, in verse and in prose, in 
some private and public discussions, not excepting even 
the courts of law, was nearly as great as that thrown on 
the Governor General. A stranger, from reading the 
publications of the day, would have been at a loss to tell 
which was the accused, and which the accuser. His 
language, arrangements, the smallest inadvertency com- 
mitted, and particularly the length of the trial, which 
arose more from the nature of the House of Lords, and 
the mode of defence, than from the managers, proved 
fruitful themes of abuse ; to forward which, money to the 
amount of 20,000/. was liberally distributed to the press. 
An imprudent dispute between the agent of the prisoner, 
Major Scott, and a printer of a newspaper, disclosed a 
bill which excited some amusement, the items regularly 
marked and charged running thus — " Letters against Mr. 
Burke," " Strictures upon the Conduct of Mr. Burke," 
" Attacking Mr. Burke's Veracity," and others of simi- 
lar import ; in addition to squibs without number, one of 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. S7I 

which, Simkin''s letters, though not the best of their class, 
were a tolerably fair and amusing satire on the conduct 
and speeches of the chief managers, without more malig- 
nity towards Mr. Burke than such things prescriptively 
claim; the opening alludes to one of his peculiarities : — 

With respect to processions, and taking of places. 
By Masters and Judges, and Lordships and Graces, 
According to promise, I now shall describe 
The procession of Burke, and his eloquent tribe. 

First Edmund walks in at the head of the group. 
That powerful < hief of that powerful troop ; 
What av/ful solemnity 's seen in his gait. 
While the nod of his head beats the time to his feet. 

An epigram, said to be written by the late Lord EI- 
lenborough, then one of the prisoner's counsel, and the 
idea of which, though not acknowledged, is borrowed 
from Mr. Burke himself, was delivered to him in a letter 
just before opening one of the charges in order that the 
sting might discompose him, but he calmly conveyed it 
to his pocket without further* notice. It is remarkable 
that the reputed author of this, after being twice or thrice 
reprimanded on the trial for his violence of language, lived 
to exhibit on the judgment- seat, where above all other 
places it is least excusable, the same violence, the same 
irritability, which he had thus presumed to censure in 
Mr. Burke as an accuser at the bar ; in addition to a 
proud and domineering spirit and conduct which Mr. 
Burke never displayed in any station. 

A conviction of the guilt of the Governor General re- 
mained in his accuser's mind to the last hour of his life, 
expressed to his friends whenever the subject was men- 
tioned, and to others not so intimate, he was nearly as 
unreserved : writing to Mr. Moser, April 5, 1796, he 
says : 



%T% LIFE OP THE 

" I am rather surprised at your speaking of such a man 
as Hastings with any dej^ree of respect ; at present I say 
nothing of those vvlio chose to take his guilt upon them- 
selves. I do not say I am not deeply concerned ; God 
forbid that I should speak any other language. Others may 
be content to prevaricate in judgment ; it is not my taste; 
but they who attack me for my fourteen years' labours 
on this subject, ought not to forget that I always acted 
under public authority, and not of my own fancy ; and 
that in condemning me they asperse the whole House of 
Commons for their conduct, continued for the greater 
part of three Parliaments." 

During the progress of the investigation, Mr. Pitt re- 
peatedly said, that it was conducted by the Right Ho- 
nourable Gentleman (Mr. Burke) with every degree of 
fairness, openness, and candour, of which it was suscep- 
tible ; and Mr. Fox still more frequently stated, that no 
man but his Right Honourable Friend could have ac- 
complished the more than Herculean task of the investi- 
gation itself, or surmounted the incessant and vexatious 
difficulties at every step thrown in his way. These, dur- 
ing the trial before the House of Lords, were of an extra- 
ordinary nature, scarcely a point of evidence being ad- 
mitted against the prisoner without quibble and cavil, 
discussion and adjournment, and ultimately from the 
forms of law, decision in his favour. No reader, perhaps, 
but a lawyer, will be satisfied with the course of the trial. 
No conscientious man will be pleased with the means 
uniformly resorted to, to evade inquiry into the merits of 
the transactions themselves, which, in the eye of mora- 
lity, will leave Mr. Hastings, if not a guilty man, at least 
a suspected one ; for, in the opinion of an acute historian, 
if his accusers did not prove his guilt, he himself did not 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 27^ 

prove his innocence.* On the question of delay in the 
trial, urged in 1790, Mr. Burke alleged that though nomi- 
nally of three years' duration, it was in reality only 64 
days, at four hours each day ; that the managers could 
not possibly be responsible for the delays, prorogations, 
and adjournments of the House of Lords, with which 
they had nothing whatever to do ; that even 64 days was 
not an unprecedented thing in their own House, for an 
Election Committee had continued 90 days — and that as 
the number of the charges and the magnitude of the 
oftences were greater than had ever been laid to the 
charge of any one impeached by that Htjuse, so no fair 
comparison could be drawn between the periods required 
for trial. Mr. Pitt repeatedly declared, that, looking 
to the magnitude and difficulty of the undertaking, he 
did not think there u'as any ground for the charge of 
delay ; but if any unnecessary delay existed, assuredly 
it rested not with the managers. Many attributed it to 
the artifices of the defendant or his lawyers. Mr. Dun- 
das pointedly said, *' there seemed no Hide art used in 
the clamour about delay, for it was always raised to- 
ward the end of a session, but never at the beginning of 
it, when steps might possibly be taken to provide a re- 
medy. No share of the blame rested with that House, or 
\\ ith the managers. If there xvere any delay in the trial^ 
it lay, he cared not who heard him^ or where his declara- 
tion might be repeated^ at the door of the House of Lords J^ 

It appears by computation, that had the Hojse sat as 
an ordinary Court of judicature ten hours a day, the trial 
would have been finished in two months. 

Another charge urged against Mr. Burke was, the in- 
temperance and asperity of his language toward the pri- 

* Mill's History of British India, vol. v. 
M m 



^7^8 LIFE OF THE 

soner, 1 o this it has been replied, with great truth, that 
no prosecutor's temper was ever before so tried by diffi- 
cuhies of every kind, by objections, by cavils, by libels 
without number out of doors ; by taunts, by irritating 
language, and indirect abuse, within ; and towards the 
close of the trial, by the obvious distaste toward the pro- 
secution itself, displayed by some of the Court whom he 
addressed. One remarkable instance of this excited ge- 
neral notice. On the 25th of May, 1793, when he was 
cross-examining Mr. Auziol, and .pushing him closely 
and at some length, the Archbishop of York who had 
already evinced strong symptoms of impatience, and 
whose son had been in high and profitable employments 
in India under Mr. Hastings, started up and said, that 
" he examined the witness as if he were examining not 
a gentleman but a pick-pocket ; that the illiberality and 
the inhumanity of the managers in the course of the long 
trial could not be exceeded by Marat and Robespierre, 
had the conduct of the trial been committed to them.'' 
Mr. Burke, with great dignity, and his accustomed pre- 
sence of mind, replied, " I have not heard one word ot 
what has been spoken, and I shall act as if I had not.'' 
The words, however, being published in a newspaper^ 
excited severe comments in the House of Commons, 
though a motion for further proceedings was lost. 

" Upon reading the printed minutes of the evidence 
with due care," says an historian, with whom, however, 
from political causes, Mr. Burke does. not stand so well 
as he otherwise might — " I perceive that Mr. Burke 
treated the witness as an unwilling witness, which he evi- 
dently was ; as a witness who, though in apable of per- 
jury, was yet desirous of keeping back whatever was un- 
favourable to Mr. Hastings, and from whom information 
unfavourable to Mr. Hastings, if he possessed it, must be 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 275 

extorted by that coercion which it is the nature and to the 
very purpose of cross-examination to apply. Of tlie tones 
employed by Mr. Burke, the mere reader of the minute 
cannot judge ; but of the questions there set down, there 
is not one u hich approaches to indecorum, or makes one 
undufe insinuation. It was the Riojht Reverend Prelate, 
therefore, who betrayed an intemperance of mind, which 
as ill accorded with the justice of the case, as with the 
decencies of either his judicial or sacerdotal character." 

The same writer gives some general but just reasons 
for the odium beginning to be cast on the managers to- 
wards the conclusion of the trial.—" The favour with 
which the cause of Mr. Hastings vvas known to be viewed 
in the highest family in the kingdom, could not be with- 
out a powerful effect on a powerful class. The frequency 
with which decisions and speeches, favourable to him, 
were made in the House of Lords ; the defence which he 
received from the great body of the lawyers; the conver- 
sation of a multitude of gentlemen from India, who mixed 
with every part of society ; the uncommon industry and 
skill with which a great number of persons, who openly 
professed themselves the friends or agents of Mr. Has- 
tings, worked, through the press and other channels, upon 
the public mind ; and not least, the disfavour which is 
borne to the exposure of the offences of men in high situ- 
ations in the bosom of that powerful class of society which 
furnishes the men by whom these situations are com- 
monly filled ; all these circumstances, united to others 
which are not less known, succeeded at last in making 
it a kind of fashion to take part with Mr. Hastings, and 
to rail against his accusers."* 

The facts of the trial, which immediately relate to the 

* Mill's History of British India, vol. v. p. 181, 182, 



S76 LIFE OF THE 

chief manager, are speedily told. On the 16th of June, 
1785, Mr. Hastings arrived in England ; and on the 20ths 
Mr. Burke gave notice of an inquiry into his conduct 
next session. The very day of the meeting of Parlia- 
ment, Major Scott, trusting, it appeared, to a belief that 
the Minister would negative the design, called upon him 
to proceed ; and received the reply of the Duke of Parma 
to Henry IV. of France, when challenged to bring his 
forces into the field and instantly decide their disputes — 
that he knew very well what to do, and had not come so 
far to be directed by ao enemy — Mr. Fox declared that 
if his Right Hon. Friend did not bring it forward, other 
Members should ; a sufficient indication that it was a ge- 
neral, not, as was said, an individual measure. 

In Feljruary, Mr. Burke moved for various papers, and 
declared his intention to proceed by impeachment at the 
bar of the House of Lords. In April the charges were 
delivered in ; June the 1st, he opened the first charge, — 
that of driving the Ruhillas from their country — which, 
though formerly reprobated by the House, was now held 
not to afford matter for crimination. To the second, that 
of the tyranny exercised over the Rajc.h of Benares, Mr. 
Pitt assented, when the friends of the Governor General 
accused him loudly of treachery, asserting they had been 
led to expect, by hints and promises, a different result. 

The remaining charges were gone through in the suc- 
ceeding session, and approved in general by the Minis- 
ter, Mr. Sheridan opening with the celebrated speech on 
the Begum charge. A committee of impeachment was 
then formed ; on the 25th of April, the articles were de- 
livered in by the chairman, Mr. Burke, and on the 9lh of 
May considered ; when Mr. Pitt, in the very strongest 
language he could use, voted heartily and conscientiously, 
tie said, for the impeachment. Next day, Mr. Burke ac- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. ^77 

cused the prisoner at the bar of the House of Lords, in 
the name of the Commons of Engjland. 

After a few preliminary proceedings, in the session of 
1787 and 1788, in which Mr. Barke complained of being 
wholly crippled by the rejection of Mr. Francis as a mem- 
ber of the committee, Westminster- Hall was opened in 
form, the 13th of February, when he led the procession, 
in full dress, as well as the other managers, followed by 
the House of Commons, Clerks of Parliament, Masters 
in Chancery, the Serjeants at law. Judges, House of 
Peers, and Royal Family, the Prince of Wales coming 
last. 

Two days were occupied in preliminary matters ; on 
the 15th, before eight o'clock in the morning, though the 
proceedings did not commence before twelve, the Hall 
was crowded to excess, 161 Peers also being present, 
anxious to hear the opening speech; and the 16th, 17th, 
(when he particularly detailed the horrible cruelties 
of a subaltern agent of power,) and 19th, were consumed 
in this oration, or series of orations, occupying about four 
hours each day. 

From the illness of the King and the absence of the 
Judges, the proceedings did not commence till the 20th 
of April, 1789 ; and next day, he began another powerful 
oration on the sixth charge of bribery and corruption. 
Each party soon accused the other of delay, but the ma- 
nagers, to obviate the charge pn their part, voluntarily 
determined to confine themselves to the more serious 
heads of delinquency, omitting the others for the sake of 
expedition. 

The re-assembling of the new Parliament, in 1790, 
produced animated discussions in both Houses, whether 
the impeachment had not abated by the dissolution of the 
old 5 which was decided in the negative. Public anxiety 



^7^ LIFE OF THE 

on the trial had, however, abated, for the forms of the 
Court, and the complicated nature of the investigation, 
presented invincible obstacles to that quick progress, 
which is always necessary to keep alive popular interest 
on such occasions, and it continued without any other 
event of consequence, than the severe speeches of the 
chief manager, often excited, however, by the annoyances 
he received, till April 23d, 1795, when a verdict of ac- 
quittal passed ; the Lord Chancellor voting wrth the Mi- 
nority, who thought him guilty. The duty of the mana- 
gers, indeed, had terminated in June preceding, by sum- 
ming up on the different charges, Mr. Burke being the 
last ; and his concluding oration, which commenced on the 
28th of May, cc^ntinued for nine days. The thanks of 
the House, moved by Mr. Pitt, and seconded by Mr. 
Dundas, were immediately voted to the managers. 

Mr. Hastings, like every one else under similar cir- 
cumstances, is fully entitled to the benefit of the verdict ; 
but when not content with this, he or his friends even to 
a recent period, continued to impugn the motives of the 
prosecutors, less reserve is necessary in adverting to his 
general character as an Indian ruler. 

He was a man of considerable powers of mind — bold, 
assuming, and energetic ; but possessing that species of 
energy which, in pushing its own views or interests, sel- 
dom stopped to consider the rights, or condition, or feel- 
ings of others w ho stood in his way. He forgot that 
Princes in India, like those elsewhere, were entitled to 
some degree of consideration and delicacy, from the sta- 
tion they occupied in their own country ; that good faith, 
justice, and sincerity, are in some degree necessary even 
in dealing with those of an opposite character; that mo- 
deration in the exercise of authority is commonly the wis- 
est policy ; that an arbitrary spirit, assumed by the prin- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. ^C/U 

cipal in government, is sure to become tyranny in tlie 
subordinate agents. From long familiarity with the 
country, his mind had become perverted to the belief that 
he was at perfect liberty to adopt the practices of the Asi- 
atics, however unprincipled, in matters of government ; 
forgetting that such conduct compromised the English 
credit and character, and possibly our future hold of this 
" Empire of opinion." .;> ; . 

Many of his measures were undoubtedly brilliant, many 
very questionable, not a few at variance with all English 
ideas of justice, or even expediency; an opinion in which 
some of the latest and best writers on India concur.*- He 
had so thoroughly entered into the spirit of an Asiatic mo- 
narch, that he seemed to think the mere expression of his 
commands or wishes, evidence enough of their utility and 
propriety; and that among Hindoos, whenever the slight- 
est necessity pressed him on a point of policy, the end to 
be answered justified the means ; a species o^ geog?'ap/ii' 
cal morality^ as Mr. Burke termed it, which he handled 
in the severest terms. Just in the same spirit, and on 
many of the same pleas, did Buonaparte put his foot on 
the necks of the prostrate Kings and nations of Europe ; 
and in the page of history, the verdict which condemns 
the one cannot possibly acquit the other. 

To try the Governor General was a matter of positive 
duty, in order to clear the character of the nation. To 
acquit him was, perhaps, a measure of necessity due to 
the quibbles of law of which he invariably took advan- 
tage, to the ill- defined nature of his power, to the acknow- 
ledged difficulties by which he was sometimes beset, and 
to the spirit of some of his instructions ; which, to gratify 

* Mill's History of India. — Malcolm's Political History of 
India ; passim. 



280 LIFE OF THE 

the cupidity of the Proprietors, seemed to embody the pith 
of the thrifty father's advice to his son — " make money, my 
son; honestly, if possible; but at all events make money ;'' 
— and he succeeded in pouring into their coffers nine mil- 
lions, by means which no i^lossin^ can make pure. 

The length of the trial, indeed, formed no inconsidera- 
ble punishment of itself. But the investigation did much 
good by evincing that, though the Legislature had long 
slumbered over the acts of the India administration, im- 
punity was no longer to be expected. Its remissness hi- 
therto had been one great cause for the continuance of 
abuse ; and it is certain, that had the conduct of Lord 
Clive, or of those who deposed and imprisoned Lord Pi- 
gott, or of Sir Thomas Rumbold and others, whom Mr. 
DundaS accused, been subjected to a similar ordeal, Mr. 
Hastings would not have attempted, or at least not have 
continued, his more objectionable proceedings, in the face 
of certain inquiry, and perhaps punishment. 

Memorable as the trial is for the space it will occupy 
in history and the excitement it produced in the nation, 
it is still more remarkable for the displays, or rather feats 
of genius in its conductors, unparalleled in this or in any 
other country; "shaking the walls that surrounded them," 
in the words of Mr. Erskine, " with anathemas of super- 
human eloquence." It was in fact an asra in this art, a 
theme for the emulative oratory of Mr. Fox, Mr. Sheridan, 
Mr. Windham, and others, names that ennoble any page 
on which they are inscribed, who seemed pitted for vic- 
tory as much over each other as over the accused. 

But above them all, beyond dispute, stood Mr. Burke. 
He had devoted mf)re attention to the subject, and in 
some degree, staked his reputation, that there were urgent 
grounds at least for inquiry ; he was master of it at a time 
when few others knew or cared much about the matter; 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. ^81 

he had more at stake in the result, in consequence of its 
bein^ represented, however untruly, as his prosecution; 
the reproacli and misrepresentation to which it gave rise, 
served not to damp, but rather to increase and sharpen 
the energy of his mind, while the occasion was suited to 
exhibit the vast extent of his knowledge, and the unri- 
valled variety of his powers. All these considerations, 
brought to bear on the point at issue, produced exertions 
without precedent or example ; so extraordinary indeed, 
that, upon a low calculation, the whole of his speeches 
and writings connected with it, which at present occupy 
seven octavo volumes, would fill at the least Jive others 
if fully collected; and to give an intelligible outline of 
each, would of itself make no inconsiderable book. The 
principal, however, are to be found in his works already 
published, or which are soon to appear. 

The greatest amazement, even to those who knew him 
best, was excited by the opening speech or speeches of 
the imp^chment, which a modern writer, adverse to the 
impeachment itself, thus characterises in the general 
terms employed at the time: 

" Never were the powers of that wonderful man dis- 
played to ,such advantage as on this occasion ; and he 
astonished even those who were most intimately acquaint- 
ed with him by the vast extent of his reading, the variety 
of his resources, the minuteness of his information, and 
the lucid order in which he arranged the whole for the 
support of his cbject, and to make a deep impression on 
the minds of his hearers.'' 

Nothing certainly in the way of fact, and nothing, 
perhaps, even in theatrical representation, ever exceeded 
the effects produced among the auditory, by the detail 
of the cruelties of Debi Sing, which he gave on the third 
day, from the reports of Mr. Paterson, who had been sent 
N n 



282 LIFE OF THE 

as commissioner to inquire into the circumstances. The 
whole statement* is appalling and heart sickening in the 
extreme ; a convulsive sensation of horror, affright, and 
smothered execration, pervaded all of the male part of his 
hearers, and audible sobbings and screams, attended with 
tears and faintings, the female. His own feelings were 
scarcely less overpowering; he dropped his head upon 
his hands, and for some minutes was unable to proceed ; 
he recovered sufficiently to go on a little further; but, 
being obliged to cease from speaking twice at short" inter- 
vals. His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, to relieve 
him, at length moved the adjournment of the House. 
Alluding to the close of this day, the writer of the History 
of the Trial, says, "In this part of his speech Mr. Burke's 
descriptions were more vivid, more harrowing, and more 
horrific, than human utterance on either fact or fancy, 
perhaps, ever formed before. The agitation of most 
people was very apparent — Mrs. Sheridan was so over- 
powered that she fainted : several others were as power- 
fully affected." 

" His powders,'' says a political adversary,-}- " were 

* See Burke's Works, vol. xiii. p* 320 — 327; but the whole 
history of the monster Debi Sing, from p. 296 of the same volume, 
is a matter of deep interest. Mr. Hastings urged that he neither 
knew of nor countenanced his crimes ; this probably was true ; 
but the man's character was known to him before he was ap- 
pointed to the situation, having been previously dismissed for 
gross mal -ad ministration. What was more extraordinary and 
suspicious, though a rebellion had been produced by the cruelties, 
Mr. Paterson's Reports were treated as libels, and he returned 
to those who sent him as the accused, not the accuser, Debi Sing 
having contrived to turn the tables upon him. — Mr. Hastings's 
administration abounded in such anomalies. — -Mr. Burke said 
that 40,000/. was the bribe paid for Debi Sing's appointment. 

t Dr. Glennie. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 383 

never more conspicuous than on that memorable day, 
on which he exposed the enormities of a subahern ngent 
of oriental despotism — the tortures inflicted by his orders, 
the flagrant injustice committed by his authority, the 
pollution that ensued in consequence of his sanction — 
when he painted agonising Nature, vibrating in horrid 
suspense between life and destruction — when he de- 
scribed, in the climax of crimes, * death introduced into 
the very sources of life,' the bosoms of his auditors be- 
came convulsed with passion, and those of more delicate 
organs, or weaker frame, actually swooned away. Nay, 
after the storm of eloquence had spent its force, and his 
voice for the moment ceased, his features still expressed 
the energy of his feelings, his hand seemed to threaten 
punishment, and his brow to meditate vengeance.'' 

The testimony of the accused party himself is, perhaps, 
the strongest ever borne to the powers of any orator of 
any country. " For half an hour," said Mr. Hastings, 
" I looked up at the orator in a reverie of wonder; and 
during that space I actually felt myself the most culpable 
man on earth :" adding, however, " But I recurred to 
my own bosom, and there found a consciousness that 
consoled me under all I heard and all I suffered." 

Even the flinty temperament of the Chancellor, Lord 
Thurlow, was aflTected almost to producing iron tears 
down Pluto's cheek; and, judging by his expressions 
at the time, his faith in Mr. Hai>ting's purity seemed 
staggered. Addressing the peers some days afterwards, 
he concluded a liandsome eulogium on the speech, by 
observing " that their Lordships all knew the effect upon 
the auditors, many of whom had not to that moment, 
and perhaps never would, recover from the shock it 
had occasioned." 

The peroration was particularly fine; nothing more 



284? LIFE OF THE 

impressive or imposing is to be found in judicial oratory; 
and the effect of the whole was so powerful upon the au- 
ditory, that it was only after some time, and repeated 
efforts, that Mr. Fox could obtain a hearing. Of the 
physical as uell as mental exertions of Mr. Burke, during 
the impeachment, some idea may be formed from the 
fact, that for weeks together he was constantly occupied 
between Westminster Hall and the House of Commons 
without quitting them, from nine o'clock in the morning 
till six or seven in the evening, and often to a later hour, 
at so late a period of the proceedings as 179;3. It may 
be remarked, that the belief in Mr. Hastings's guilt was 
not more firmly entertained by Mr. Burke than it was 
by the late Mr. Charles Grant,* whose knowledge of 
India, and integrity, and abilities, were equally unques- 
tioned, and to whom a statue. has just been voted by the 
Company. 

During the busiest sessions of the impeachment, 1786, 
1787, and 1788, his attention was of course chiefly, though 
not solely, occupied by its details. The other measures 
in which he took part were in opposing, " with an almost 
overwhelming torrent of eloquence," in the language 
used at the time, the extension of power to the Governor 
General of India;! and the Declaratory Act, which indi- 
rectly gave ministry much of the power more openly 
assumed by the India bill, of opposition. 

* Who died in 1823. 

t What he recommended was a combination of three things — 
a government by law (not by will) — trial by jury — and publicity 
in every executive and judicial concern. Mr. Mill, who injures a 
good history here and there by peculiar opinions, and hasty con- 
clusions, presumes most inconclusively against Mr. Burke's 
honesty or wisdom from this opposition ; yet, in the same breath 
approves his remedies. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 285 

He also came forward on the constitution of the go- 
vernments of Canada ; in warmly approving, in the name 
of Opposition, the plan for the consolidation of the Cus- 
toms; the treaty with the landgrave of Hesse and the 
renewal of our continential connections: the provision for 
a meritorious public servant. Sir John Skynner; in push- 
ing forward the Slave Trade Abolition question now 
taken up by Mr. Wilberforce; and other less important 
matters. 

The commercial treaty with France gave occasion to 
some bitterly sarcastic sparring between him and the 
Minister. The aggression being on the part of the for- 
mer may perhaps be put down to the account of party 
spirit, for in a subsequent speech on the same topic, 
which Mr. Pitt notwithstanding their former encounter 
characterised as displaying a very singular share of ability, 
Mr. Burke differed from the other members of Opposi- 
tion, in admitting that, though he questioned its policy, 
he had not the slightest fears of its injuring our own 
manufactures. 

While speaking on this subject, and drawing a masterly 
comparison of the relative circumstances and capabilities 
of the two countries, which drew cheers from both sides 
of the House, he took occasion to reply ably, but satiri- 
cally, to some observations made on a former occasion 
by a member, who, being one of nine said to be returned 
by a noble Earl, had thence acquired the ludicrous appel- 
lation of nine pins. Mr. Fox, entering the House at the 
moment of the cheer, inquired of Mr. Sheridan the cause 
of it. " Oh ! nothing of consequence," replied the wit, 
*' only Burke knocking doun one of the nine phis P' 

The tension of mind produced by these great public 
labours found occasional relaxation by short summer ex- 
cursions into different parts of the kingdom, and in fre- 



Z86 LIFE OF THE 

quent correspondence with some old friends and very 
warm admirers among his countrymen. In 1785 he 
wrote to Dr. Beaufort, author of an able and well-known 
Memoir of a Map of Ireland, to procure for him a skeleton 
of the enormous species of moose deer, sometimes dug 
up in the bogs of that country, having an inclination, as 
he said, to see such a stately product of his native country 
placed in his hall. 

In October 1786, induced by " a sudden fire-side 
thou«;ht," as he expressed it, he and his son proceeded 
thither, remaining not more than three weeks; he found 
time however to spend a day and a night at Ballitore, the 
last opportunity that offered of seeing these early friends 
on their own soil; and meeting with some of the old do- 
mestics of the establishment, remembered them perfectly, 
and behaved with his characteristic kindness and affability: 
an anecdote of this kind has been already related. 

Part of the time was spent with Lord Charlemont, for 
whose private character he had so much regard as often 
to term him " one of the chief ornaments of Dublin." 
To this nobleman he was in the habit of giving letters of 
introduction to all his friends of consideration proceeding 
thither on business or curiosity, among whom, about 
this time, v.ere Mr. (afterwards Sir Philip) Francis, Mr. 
Nevill, Mr. Shippen, an American traveller, and others. 
He also transmitted to his Lordship, about this period, a 
bust of the late Marquis of Rockingham, with whom he 
had been extremely intimate since 1752, when they be- 
came acquainted at Rome, on their travels: it was a pre- 
sent from the Marchioness. Soon afterward Mr. Burke, 
on being elected a member of the Royal Irish Academy, 
wrote him a letter of thanks, as president. 

As specimens of that air of interest and. elegance he 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 287 

was accustomed to throw over the common affair of a let- 
ter of introduction, two or three of them are subjoined ; — 

" Gerrard-street, June 1, 1787. 
" My dear Lord, 
" I have an high respect for your Lordship of old, as I 
trust you know ; and as I have the best wishes for my 
friend Mr. Francis, I am exceedingly desirous that he 
should have an opportunity of paying his compliments to 
the person in Ireland the most worthy the acquaintance 
of a man of sense and virtue. Mr. Francis has not been 
in Ireland since the days of his childhood, but he has been 
employed in a manner that does honour to the country 
that has given him birth. When he sees your Lordship, 
he will perceive that ancient morals have not yet deserted 
at least that part of the world which he revisits, and you 
will be glad to receive for a while a citizen that has only 
left his country to be the more extensively serviceable to 
mankind. May I beg your Lordship to present my most 
respectful and most affectionate compliments, and those 
of Mrs. Burke and my son, and all that are of our little 
family, to Lady Charlemont. I hope that Mr. Francis 
will bring back such an account of the health of your 
Lordship, and all yours, as may make us happy." 

" Beaconsfield, July 19, 1787. 
" My dear Lord, 
*' Mr. Francis called upon me in his way to his own 
house, charmed, as 1 expected he would be, with your 
character and conversation, and infinitely obliged by your 
reception of him. Give me leave to convey his thanks 
to you, and to add mine to them. — Every motive induces 
me to wish your house provided with all the ornaments 
that are worthy of it : the bust you desire is that which 



S88 LIFE OF THE 

is most essential, and that in which you combine yoUF 
taste, your friendship, and your principles. When I go 
to town, I shall see Mr. Nollekens, and hasten him as 
much as I can : there was no bust taken from Lord Rock- 
ingham during his life-time. This is made from a masque 
taken from his face after his death, and of couse must 
want that animation which I am afraid can never be given 
to it, without hazarding the ground-work of the features. 
Tassic has made a profile in his glass, u hich is I think 
the best likeness ; I mean, uncoloured likeness, which 
exists. I will recommend it to Nollekens ; perhaps he 
may make some advantage of it ; though 1 have observed 
that artists seldom endeavour to profit of each other's 
works, though not in the exact line which they profess." 

" My dear Lord, 

" If I were to write all that is in my heart and head 
relative to you, and to your proceedings,* I should write 
volumes. At present I abstain from any subject but 
that which at this instant may give your Lordship occa- 
sion to remember me. 

" My friend Mr. Shippen, of Pennsylvania, a very 
agreeable, sensible, and accomplished young man, will 
have the honour of delivering this to your Lordship. I 
flatter myself that you will think of him as I do ; and, if 
you do, I have no doubt that he will find, under your 
Lordship's protection, every thing that he can expect 
(and he expects a great deal) from Ireland. He has been 
for some time upon his travels on the Continent of Eu- 
rope ; and, after this tour, he pays us the compliment 
of thinking that there are things and persons worth seeing 
in Ireland. For one person I am sure I can answer, and 

* On the Regency question. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 289 

am not afraid of disappointing him, when I tell him, that 
in no country will he find a better pattern of elegance, 
good breeding, and virtue. I shall say nothing further 
to recommend my friend to one to whom a youn^ gen- 
tleman, desirous of every sort of improvement, is, by that 
circumstance, fully recommended. America and we are 
no longer under the same Crown; but, if vve are united 
by mutual good will, and reciprocal good offices, periiaps 
it may do almost as well. Mr. Shippen will give you 
no unfavourable specimen of the neiv worldP 

His Lordship, in return, thought he could not do better 
for his particular friends bound to Eny;land, than to con- 
sign them to the care of one so celebrated, and so capable 
of affording instruction and amusement. Among these, 
about this time, was Mr. Hardy, destined to be his Lord- 
ship's biographer, who, although already known to Mr. 
Burke, seemed to feel the charm of his society and ami- 
able qualities, with additional force, during this visit. 

" He was," says that gentleman, '* social, hospitable, 
of pleasing access, and most agreeably communicative. 
One of the most satisfactory days perhaps that I ever 
passed in my life, was going with him tete atete, from 
London to Beaconsfield. He stopped at Uxbridge whilst 
his horses were feeding, and happening to meet some, 
gentlemen of I know not what militia, who appeared to 
be perfect strangers to him, he entered into discourse 
with them at the gateway of the inn. His conversation 
at that moment completely exemplified what Johnson 
said of him, 'That you could not meet Burke under a 
shed without saying that he was an extraordinary man.' 

" He was altogether uncommonly attractive and agree- 
able. Every object of the slightest notoriety as we passed 
along, whether of natural or local history, furnished him 
with abundant materials for conversation. The house, 
O 



g90 LIFE OF THE 

at Uxbridge, where the treaty was held during Charles 
the First'ji time ; the beautiful and undulatinij; g^rounds 
of Bulbtrode, formerl\ the rebidence of Chancellor Jef- 
fries ; and Waller^s tomb, in Beacotisfield church yard, 
which, before we went home, we visited, and whose cha- 
racter as a i^entleman, a poet, and an orator, he shortly 
delineated, l)ut with exquisite felicity of _o;enius, altoj^ether 
8;ave an uncommon interest to his eloq .ence ; and al- 
though one-and-twenty years have elapsed since that day, 
I entertain the most vivid and pleasing recollection of it." 

The nsost flattering testimony yet borne to the supe- 
riority of his public and private character, to his senato- 
rial and literary talents, appeared in 1787, in the cele- 
brated Latin preface to Bellendenus, by its celebrated 
author Dr. Parr ; an offering certainly of no common 
value either in the terms in which it was expressed, or in 
the quarter from which it came ; a characteristic tribute 
of unfeigned admiration from the most learned to the 
most eloquent man of the age. It is said that the D )C- 
tor has written an epitaph for him which, however, he has 
not yet made public. 

His own taste in epitaph -writing was again put in re- 
quisition, by the coaspletion, in August, 1788, of the 
splendid, and in this country unequalled, mausoleum to 
the memory of the Marquis of Rockingham, erected 
about a mile in front of Wentworth House, in Yorkshire, 
from which, as well as from the surrounding country, it 
forms a noble and interesting object 90 feet high. The 
interior of the base is a don:ie supported by 12 doric col- 
umns, with niches for the statues of the deceased Ntjble- 
man and his friends, among whom the distinguished 
writer of the follow ing piece now takes his stand. The 
inscription, for force, precision, and fitness, has perhaps. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 291 

like the mausoleum itself, no equal among the mortuary- 
remains of the country : '' 

"Charles, Marquis of Rockingham. 

" A statesman in whom constancy, fidelity, sincerity, and di- 
rectness, were the sole instruments of his policy. His virtues 
were his arts. A clear, sound, unadulterated sense, not per- 
plexed with intricate d»^sign, or disturbed by ungoverned passion, 
gave consistency, dignity, and effect, to all his measures. In 
Opposition he respected the principles of Government ; in Ad- 
ministration he provided for the liberties of the people He 
employed his moments of power in realising every thing which 
he had promised in a popular situation. This was the distin- 
guishing mark of his conduct. After twenty-foUr years of ser- 
vice to the public, in a critical and trying time, he left no debt 
of just expectation unsatisfied. 

" By his prudence and patience he brought together a party, 
which it was the great object of his labours to render permanent, 
not as an instrument of ambition, but as a living depository of 
principle. 

"The virtues of his public and private life were not in him of 
different characters. It was the same feeling, benevolent, libe- 
ral mind that, in the internal relations of life, conciliates the un- 
feigned love of those who see men as they are, which made him 
an inflexible patriot. He was <ievoted to the cause of liberty, 
not because he was haughty and intractable, but because he was 
beneficent and humane. 

"Let his successors, who from this house behold this monu- 
ment, reflect that their conduct will make it their g'ory or their 
reproach. Let them be persuaded that similarity of manners, not 
proximity of blood, gives them an interest in this statue. 
" Remember — Resemble — Persevere," 



293 I-IFK OF VllK 



CHAPTER X. 

llegency Question. — French Revolution. — Mr. Burke^a 
opininns immediately formed. — His Correspondents. — 
Rupture with Mr. Sheridan. — Mr. Gerrard Hamilton. 

Toward the end of October, 1788, the melancholy- 
illness of the King withdrew public attention from all 
other subjects to the consequent proceedings in Parlia- 
ment, in v\hich Mr. Borke, who, it might be thought, 
had enough to do with the complicated labours of the 
imi^achment, was destined to take an equally conspi- 
cuous part. 

It is more than doubtful whether, at the commence- 
ment, this was quite congenial to his wishes. But the 
absence from England at first, and subsequent illness of 
Mr. Fox, threw the labouring oar upon him ; and a sense 
of party honour or necessity, added to a firm conviction 
that the Heir Apparent was treated with injustice and dis- 
respect, carried him forward to weild it with as much of 
energy as he had ever shown upon any occasion, but with 
less moderation of temper. Personal favour or aggran- 
disement he had no reason to expect ; above six weeks 
of the emergency had elapsed uhen he pointedly declared 
in the House of Commons, — and the omission was then 
well known, though remedied soon afterward, — that he 
knew as little of the interior of Carlton House as of Buck- 
ingham House. This did not in the least abate the zeal 
of his exertions. 

A detail of these, as they may be found in many other 
publications, it is not necessary to give here ; they com- 
prised nearly all that argument, wit, constitutional know- 



KIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 293 

ledsje, and sarcastic ridicule, could urge, and were zeal- 
ously continued in almost every debate on the subject 
for about two months. He contended for the exclusive 
right of the Prince of Wales to the Regency, in opposi- 
tion to Mr. Pitt, who maintained that any other person, 
appro"ed by Parliament, had an equal right to it ; he 
strenuously resisted the two resolutions, that it was the 
express duty of the two Houses to provide a Regency, in 
case of interruption to the royal authority — and that they 
alone should determine on the means to give the royal 
assent to the bill constituting such a Regency. 

The bill itself, with so many restrictions, he stigmatised 
as derogatf^ry, injurious, suspicious, and insulting to the 
Prince, who was left to exercise all the invidious duties 
of government without any power to reward ; he debated 
it, clause by clause, with unabated spirit till toward the 
end of February, when the happy recovery of the Sove- 
reign put an end to further contention. The diligence 
with which Mr. Burke sought for information on all to- 
pics of interest may be conceived from what took place 
on the present occasion ; that, besides ransacking our his- 
tory for precedents or points of coincidence, he examined 
all the medical books treating of the disease, and visited 
several receptacles for persons so afflicted in order more 
thoroughly to trace its general progress and results, in 
addition to the examinations of the physicians. Nor was 
his pen less exercised upon this occasion than his other 
po\\ ers ; one product of which is universally considered 
to be the celebrated answer of the Prince to the letter of 
Mr. Pitt, specifying the restrictions to be imposed upon 
the Regent, which, for dignity, and force of sentiment 
and of diction, has perhaps not many equals among state 
papers. Several minor pieces, such as the questions to 
the Lord Mayor, some speeches, letters, answers, and re- 



§9* LIFE OF THE 

presentations from exalted personages, are also attributed 
to him, a few of which breathe strong; insinuations against 
the character and designs of Administration. 

It has been said, in the {general abuse poured upon him 
otv this as on other great public questions, rhat he dis- 
played a kind of triumph or at least indelicacv to the 
unhappy condition of His Majesty; a char^je which his 
general humanity, and a fair interpretation of his expres- 
sions, such as every extempore debater needs and com- 
monly solicitj5 from his hearers, sufficiently refute. 

It is well known indeed that he felt warmly : that he 
gave vent to his feelings too freely; that he committed 
upon this, as upon some other occasions, the fa. ill of 
being too unreserved with the public at large, which, as 
experience has frequently proved, treats those statesmen 
with the least consideration v\ho exhibit towards it the 
greatest candour and confidence; so that concealment 
and art, though considered as the vices of a statesman, 
are almost necessary to him to enjoy the favour of those 
whom he serves. In debate Mr. Burke's warmth was 
sufficiently punished on *his question by unjust insinua- 
tions and by cries o^ order! which, being once pertina- 
ciously urged in what he diought a frivolous or party- 
spirit, drew from him the following observation in reply, 
having more than once expressed contempt at the use 
of this exclamation : *' Order is an admirable thing, per- 
fect in all its limbs, but unfortunately it squints, or can 
see only on that side which tells for itself. Delicacy also 
I have the utmost wish to preserve; but delicacy, though 
a being of perfect symmetry, like the former, is only a 
subsidiary virtue, and ought always to give way to truth, 
where the case is such that the truth is of infinitely more 
importance than the delicacy." 

Politicians militant commonly make the greatest ex- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 2Q5 

cuses for each other; and there were many apologies for 
Mr. Burke in the admitted manoeuvring of Ministry so 
as to have jockeyed his friends out of the useful exercise 
of that power they were on the point of acquiring, had 
they even gained it; in he artful concealment of the de- 
sign till the middle of December when it was ripe for 
execution; in the means made use of to instil ungenerous 
suspicions of her children into the mind of the Queen ; 
in the anomalous principle of an elective regency in an 
hereditary monarchy ; in the fraud and fiction as he strong- 
ly termed it of making the Great Seal, a thing of wax 
and copper, a substitute for a King when a living, lawful, 
intelligent heir was at hand; in the number and nature of 
the restrictions imposed; in the conflicting opinions of the 
physicians; and something in his own increasing irrita- 
bility, the common offspring of increasing infirmity and 
age. No one understood the necessity for such allow- 
ances, or acted more fairly upon them, than Mr. Pitt; for 
though keenly sensitive to the sarcasms of his opponent, 
particularly when taunted with being a compefifor for the 
Regency with the Prince, and to which he replied by an 
ungenerous accusation that Mr. Burke did not wish the 
King to recover, the occasion had no sooner ceased than 
it was forgotten on the part of both ; both probably feeling 
that had their situations as to power been reversed, their 
conduct might not have been materially different. 

The emergency to any minister was new and difficult; 
but the characteristic dexterity of Mr. Pitt, and the de- 
mocratical view which the preservation or speedy re- 
sumption of power rendered it expedient for him to take 
of it, tickled the popular feeling into a decided approval 
of w hat he did ; it was of course but natural that he should 
wish to retain his power; and it is equally certain that 
had he thought there was the most distant hope of retain- 



396 LIFK OF THK 

inj^ it under the Recent, the restrictions upon the latter 
would not have been imposed. The justice of the re- 
strictions was therefore, to say the least, questionable; 
they cast a suspicion where no suspicion ous^ht to have 
fallen; and a deep manoeuvre" to preserve a Ministry be- 
came the means not only of impeding the useful exercise 
of the power of the Crown for a time, but perhaps to 
weaken public respect for it, which,, at any other time, or 
under other circumstances, Mr. Pitt himself would have 
most loudly reprobated. 

Whatever be the opinion of his public measures, or 
the purity of his motives, his private conduct was manly ; 
too unceremonious perhaps, too lofty, too unbending to- 
ward an illustrious personage to be consistent with per- 
fect duty, though he disclaimed the slightest intentional 
disrespect. The Chancellor displayed more art and 
pliancy. Rough and knotted only when his official ex- 
istence was not in danger, he on this occasion exhibited 
more of the w illow than the oak in his composition, oscil- 
lating between the contending interests with a degree of 
elasticity of which he was previously not thought capa- 
ble, and which, in the eyes of near observers, did not 
tend to exalt his character. Mr. Burke, informed of 
this, assailed him with several sarcasms, paticu.arly on 
hearing of a burst of the pathetic from hin in the House 
of Lords in allusion to the afliicting condition of His 
Majesty : 

*' The theatrical tears then shed were not the tears of 
patriots for dying laws, but of Lords for their expiring 
places; the iron tears which flowed down Pluto's cheek 
rather resembled the dismal bubbling of the Sfi/x than 
the gentle murmuring streams o^ .Iganippe : in fact, they 
W'ere tears for his Majesty's bread ; and those u ho shed 
them would stick by the King's loaf as long as a single 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 297 

cut of it remained, while even a crust of it held together." 
Of the afrectionate behaviour of the illustrious persona<^e 
most interested, to both parents under invidious and 
trying circumstances, it is more difficult to speak, as the 
languapje of truth might be mistaken for impertinent 
praise. But when euloi^jy can have no aim and no re- 
ward, it will be adduced as an example to children in 
every condition of life. 

During the progress of this business, the correspon- 
dence of Mr. Burke with Lord Charlemont, who took 
the lead in the Irish House of Lords, and formed one of 
the deputation bearing its Address to the Prince, was 
frequent and confidential ; he being indeed ihe only chan- 
nel used for communication of the public opinion of Ire- 
land, between that nobleman and his Royal Highness. 
Of the latter, with whom he had several interviews, he 
speaks highly in a letter to his Lordship of April 4th, 
1789: 

" My dearest Lord, 

** You do no more than strict justice in allowing the 
sincerity of my attachment to you, and my readiness on 
all occasions to 6bey your commands. My affections 
are concerned in your thinking so, and my pride in having 
it believed by as many as know me. 

♦* After 1 had received your letter of the 24th of March 

I lost no time in attending the P . I cannot say 

that I executed your Lordship's commission literally: I 
thought it better to let you speak for yourself. To have 
done otherwise would not have been to do justice to the 
P., to your Lordship, or even to the person charged with 
your commission. There never was any thing conceived 
more justly, or expressed with more elegance, than what 
you have said of his R. H. I did not think it right to 
Pp 



LIFE OF THE 

spoil SO just and so handsome a compliment, by giving 
it in any other words than your own. I risked more j 
and, nithout your authority, put the letter into his hands. 
The P. \^as much pleased, and I think affected. The 
account your Lordship has given of the state of politics 
in Ireland, was certainly not what we could have wished, 
and indeed expected. It was, however, a relief to his 
R. H. as he found things much better than, from other 
accounts, he had conceived them. 

" I never had the least idea that the Opposition in 
Ireland could continue against the presiding Administra- 
tion here, however some individuals might be on principle 
adverse to it. I am charmed with what I have heard of 
the Duke of Leinster. I am happy to find him add a 
character of firmness to the rest of his truly amiable and 
respectable qualities. Ponsonby* then is, it seems, the 
ProtoMarryr. I never saw him until the time of your 
embassy; but I am not mistaken in the opinion I formed 
of him, on our firbt conversation, as a manly, decided 
character, with a right conformation of mind, and a clear 
and vigorous understanding. The world will see what 
is got by leaving a provoked, a powerful enemy; and 
how well faiih is kept by those, whose situation is ob- 
tained by iheir infidelity, one ivould have thought that 
personal experience was not necessary for teaching that 
lesson. As to what you have said of the care to be taken 
of the Martyrs to their duty, that is a thing of course, in 
case an opportunity occurs. They would not be injured 
so much as the leaders would be eteriially disgraced, if 
they were not made their first objects. It would be a 
shame, indeed, if those who surrender should profit more 

* Afterwards Lord Ponsonby ; dismissed, after the Regency 
question, Trom the office of Post-Master General. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 299 

by the pjenerosity of their enemies than those who hold 
out to the last biscuit might by the jtistice and gratitude 
of their friends. Here we seem to have forgot all serious 
business. 

'• I have a thousand things to say to your Lordship on 
the part of the P. with regard to your principles, your 
liberality of sentiment, the goodness of your heart, and 
the politeness of your manners. I think him a judge of 
these things, and I see that he knows the value of a com- 
pliment from one, who has his civility for every body, but 
the expression of his approbation for very few."* 

It is remarkable that though every one else thought 
the exertions of Mr. Burke on this question very labo- 
rious, he did not seem to have the same opinion of them 
himself. " My time of life," said he, writing to the same 
Nobleman, July 10th, on this and other matters, " the 
length of my service, and the temper of the public, ren- 
dered it very unfit for me to exert myself in the common 
routine of Opposition." Yet he had exerted himself on 
several topics, particularly on the business of the impeach- 
ment, and the abolition of the Slave Trade, recommend- 
ing that Mr. VVilberforce's propositions be considered 
itumediately, and saying that the system itself was one of 
robbery. 

With Mr. Fox, though without expresslv naming him, 
he was evidently dissatisfied on the Regency question, 
and also with others of his coadjutors: alluding to these, 
and to continued ill success, notwithstanding his extra- 
oidinary exf.rtions, he has the following remaiks in ano- 
ther passage of the same letter: " Perpetual failure, even 
though notning in that failure can be fixed on the impro- 
per choice oi objects, or the injudicious choice of means, 

* Hardy's Life of Lord Chademoni 



300 LIFE OF THE 

will detract every day more and more from a man's credit, 
until he ends without success and without reputation. In 
fact, a constant pursuit even of the best objects, xvithout 
adequate instruments^ detracts something from the opinion 
of a man's judgment. This I think may be, in part, the 
cause of the inactivity of others of our friends, who are in 
the vigour o( life, and in possession of a great degree of 
lead and authority. * * * 

" My particular province has been the East Indies. 
We have rest, or something like it, for die present ; but 
depend upon it I shall persevere to the end, and shall not 
add myself to the number of those bad examples, in 
which delinquents have wearied out the constancy of the 
prosecutors. We may not go through all the charges ; 
I fear it will be out of our power to do this ; but we shall 
give a specimen of each great head of criminality, and 
then call for judgment. So far as to a general view of 
my sole share of business. As to the politics of Ire- 
land, as I see nothing in them very pleasant, I do not wish 
to revive in your mind what your best philosophy is re- 
quired to make tolerable. Knjoy your Marino,* and 
your amiable and excellent family. These are comfort- 
able sanctuaries, when more extensive views of society 
are gloomy and unpleasant and unsafe." 

The obloquy cast on Opposition, especially on Mr, 
Burke, in every form of popukr literary missile, pamph- 
lets, newspapers, epigrams, caricatures, and squibs in all 
forms of publication, nearly equalled the abuse he expe- 
rienced on the impeachment. 

At the close of this session a period of public tranquil- 
lity seemed at hand. No prominent object of interest 

* A beautiful villa near Dublin, commanding the whole sweep 
of the bay, and much of the surrounding country. 



RIGHT HON-. EDMUND BURKE. 301 

was before the public. The late contest had been set at 
rest by the recovery of the King. The impeachment 
had lost much of its hold on general curiosity ; and the 
preceding letter indicated a damp on the mind of the wri- 
ter of being doomed to some degree of political inaction, 
a state which, though he sometimes appeared in his let- 
ters to covet, was in fact wholly alien to his temperament 
and habits; for these, however occasionally delighted with 
retirement, were, in spirit and by practice, of the most ac- 
tive description. 

But a week had not elapsed after it was written, when 
the storming of the Bastille in Paris, the defection of the 
army, the lawless massacres of the mob, the flight of 
many of the nobility and part of the royal family, and the 
entire dissolution of the powers of government, seemed 
the consummation by open outrage of the moral disorders 
which for two or three years had pervaded a neighbour- 
ing kingdom. 

France, in the eyes of an Englishman, had for centuries 
presented a striking contrast to his own country, especi- 
ally in one leading point. Long her equal in science, in 
the arts, in letters, in war, abounding in men of great ge- 
nius and attainments, and in clear and extended vievvsj 
and pre-eminent in all the amenities of polished life, she 
was yet but a savage in the appreciation of freedom. She 
had acquired all things but that alone which is the most 
valuable of all, and which most ennobles man in his own 
opinion ; — the light of liberty was the only light which 
had not shone upon her ; the spirit to acquire national 
freedom was the only spirit in which she was deficient. 
Litde desirous of amending the institutions of despotism, 
she had continued quietly to submit for nearly two centu- 
ries after England had thrown them completely off; as if 
example itself in this most contagious of all feehngs and 



803 LIFE OF THE 

occurring even at her doors, was fated to flill dead to the 
ground for any tiling that concerned her. A portion of 
this indifference arose from overweening vanity. Con- 
ceited beyond all nations, she despised whatever was 
not her own ; wrapped up in the splendours of military 
glory and absolute monarchy, she not only could not un- 
derstand the advantage of our more popular form of go- 
vernment, but contemnevl it as inefficient to her favourite 
purposes of war and aggrandisement. With charac- 
teristic self-complacency, some of her statesmen and all 
her courtiers prrmounced it as suited only to a people 
whose national spirit and manners they were pleased to 
say, partook equally of barbarity. Occasional conscious- 
ness of political degradation had indeed been exhibited 
by many of her eminent men during the preceding fifty 
years, but it was partial and soon forgotten. The wheels 
of government rolled on ; clogged by the filth which an 
absolute monarchy has a natural tendency to engender, 
but still in motion, and might have continued still to 
move, had not financial difficulties, soon after the close of 
the American war, precipitated an event for which the 
people in power were wholly unprepared. 

The Notables^ a selection from the higher order of 
each class of persons in the kingdom, were at length as- 
sembled, followed by the convocation of the States Ge- 
neral, u hen, by very ordinary efforts of honesty and com- 
mon sense, France might have acquired for herself all 
that could be desired in freedom and security. But the 
mass of people were ignorant ; the nobility and clergy 
bigoted to invidious privileges and exemptions; the ties 
of religion loosened in the higher and middling classes, 
by a most extensive and extraordinar\ conspiracy of Athe- 
ists and Deists ; the state of morals, among the same 
classes, scandalously licentious ; and when the moment 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 303 

oF difficulty came, the King himself — a Lot in the midst 
of Gomorrah — was compelled to encounter a most alarm- 
ing state of things surrounded by few good men, and 
scarcely a single wise one. 

The scenes that ensued need not be retraced ; they 
are painful to contemplate, and two or three centuries 
hence will scarcely be believed. But the deliberative 
body, the aaserrthhd virtue^ 2ind property, and talent oi 
the nation, presented the most fearful, as well as the most 
curious spectacle of all. It is difficult even now to tell 
whether knavery or folly predominated most in its pro- 
ceedings. There were in it some clever, and many good 
men ; but, outnumbered by the designing, the unprin- 
cipled, the ignorant ; by dreamers, and by speculative 
philosophers ignorant of first elements of political science 
\\h'>, in attempting to carry their reveries into effisct, con- 
verted anarchy into a species of system. 

They took a constitution in hand, as a savage would 
a looking glass, or a boy a Chinese puzzle ; it must be 
pulled to pieces to discover the hidden charm within. 
All the balances of the State were therefore overturned, 
the rights of property infringed, distinctions as old as the 
foundation of the kingdom abrogated. There was no 
attempt made to retain the shattered elements of the State 
which were in themselves good — no wise design, as Lord 
Bacon expresses it, to weed, to prune, and to graft, rather 
than to plough up and plant all afresh — but a seeming 
desire to enjoy a species of moral chaos, to revel in the 
luxury of inextricable confusion ; and so general was the 
spirit, that many of the nobility and clergy whose interests 
and very existence were at stake by the schemes in aa-i- 
tatjon, became the most forward instruments of their own 
destruction ; some fro'n a love for popularity, but the 
majority from utter want of foresight as to consequences. 



304j life of the 

Among the Members of the Assembly, the presumed 
wisdom of the nation, might be seen (very soon after- 
wards at least) that theoretical perfection of representation 
so much admired by one class of politicians practically 
put to the test. Every class of society, almost to the 
offal, was ransacked for deputies. The fruits were such 
as might be expected ; men without wisdom, without 
diij^nity, without property, without experience or consis- 
tency of conduct, whose meetings had little of the cha- 
racter of deliberation, and whose deeds, as the revolution 
advanced, but for their atrocity, would have been as 
laughable for folly as they were defective in every quality 
of grave consideration. 

A curious inquirer might trace among many of its mem- 
bers, and among the chief agents who worked their way 
by their follies or vices into the service of the State dur- 
ing the confusion, a remarkable animosity in individuals 
toward their former avocations or attach'nents. 

Here were to be seen noblemen denouncing the order 
of nobility ; ministers of a despotic monarchy calling for 
a republic : courtiers cutting off the King's head ; priests 
voting religion a nuisance ; lawyers overturning all sem- 
blance of law or justice ; philosophers admitting of no 
argument but the guillotine ; poets chaunting the neces- 
sity for more blood ; painters coolly catching the finish- 
ing touches of their art in the dying struggles of the scaf- 
fold ; for all these facts literally occurred. — Below these 
again, and still more active in the work of purijication^ 
were tradesmen — butchers, brewers, bakers, and others 
-—busily occupied in thinning the mouths they had con- 
tributed to feed ; and school-masters, musicians, players, 
dancing-masters, exterminating those orders of society, 
who had previously formed their chief or only means of 
support. 



RIGHT HOX. EDMUND BURKE. 305 

The people were not unworthy of such representatives, 
and such authorities. Paris, and much of the country, 
became transformed into a den of uncaged maniacs, act- 
ing the most wild and horrible extravagances such as no 
countrv barbarous or civilised ever before oiFrred, beyond 
even the murderous jollities of Ashantee. Were not the 
facts notorious, it would be difficult to believe that human 
nature hy'd been so bad ; — the rights of man, ostenta- 
tiouly proclaimed, and every instant atrociously violated ; 
religion defamed and abolished, to make «ay for the god- 
dess of reason ; morality derided ; public massacres sanc- 
tioned ; anarchy legalised ; quarter to English piisoners 
of war, disallowed by the public vote of the Deputies of 
the nation ; proscription and bloodshed decreed to be the 
duty, almost the recreation, of the execrable ruffia; s in 
power ; even the dead torn from their graves to undergo 
the most revolting indignities. All the ties that bind men 
together seemed to be dissolved. Obligations had no 
longer pov\er to conciliate, or gratitude to bind the depen- 
dant to his benefactor ; brother warred with brother; the 
son with his father, wherever there appeared the least he- 
sitation in dooming to destruction all who possessed 
"Wealth, rank, or principle. For about five years all Eu- 
rope gazed with affright and astonishment at this specta- 
cle, which, embodying the crimes and barbarities of the 
world within the compass of a single state, rendered a go- 
vernment detestible, a people infamous, and liberty thus 
abused the direst of all curses. 

In England, the first movements of the Revolution were 
hailed as the regeneration of a large portion of the human 
race. Mr. Fox and Mr. Pitt tendered it their tribute of 
admiration. Mr. Burke alone was more cautious or more 
penetrating. He professed to admire the principle ; but 
either from that uncommon sagacity he had ever dis- 

Qq 



306 LIl'E OF THL 

played on great national questions, from his greater age 
and consequent experience, from a greater knowledge of 
mankind, or from a clearer insight into the French cha- 
racter, he entertained from the first some extraordinary 
misgivings as to its mode of operation and result. 

Few things in political history are more interesting 
than to trace the first symptoms of this hesitation to ap- 
prove, what other and even great men thought it almost 
their duty, instantly, and by acclamation, to admire. 
Among his first sentiments on this topic committed to 
paper, if not the very first, was a letter to Lord Charle- 
mont, dated 9th of August, 1789, about three weeks 
after the storming of the Bastille, in which he opens his 
mind without reserve : 

" As to us here, our thoughts of every thing at home 
are suspended by our astonishment at the wonderful 
spectacle which is exhibited in a neighbouring and rival 
country. What spectators, and what actors ! England 
gazing With astonishment at a French struggle for li- 
berty, and not knowing whether to blame or to appfaud. 

" The thing, indeed, though I thought I saw some- 
thing like it in progress for several years, has still some- 
what in it paradoxical and mysterious. The spirit it is 
impossible not to admire ; bat the old Parisian ferocity 
has broken out in a shocking manner. It is true, that 
this may be no more than a sudden explosion ; if so, no 
indication can be taken from it ; but if it should be cha- 
racter, rather than accident, then that people are not fit 
for liberty, and must have a strong hand, like that of their 
former masters, to coerce them. 

" Men must have a certain fund of natural moderation 
to qualify them for freedom, else it becomes noxious to 
themselves, and a perfect nuisance to ever\ body else. 
What will be the event, it is hard, I think, still to say. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 307 

To form a solid constitution requires wisdom as well as 
spirit; and whether the French have wise heads among 
them, or if they possess such, whether they have autho- 
rity equal to their wisdom, is yet to be seen. In the 
mean time the progress of this whole affair is one of the 
most curious matters of speculation that ever was exhi- 
bited." 

Nothing can be more unambiguous and unreserved, or 
more consistent with the active part he afterwards took, 
than this avowal made in the confidence of frieiulship — 
that the spirit to aim at liberty was praiseworthy, but that 
his ultimate approval must depend upon the manner in 
which that desire should be carried into effect. The ap- 
prehensions which overshadowed his mind are obvious in 
this letter, and similar sentiments were communicated 
both verbally and in writing, to other friends. His judg- 
ment might be said (without a figure) to be suspended 
over it like the sword of Damocles, and with almost equal 
power to destroy. 

In the mean time, with his accustomed diligence, no 
means were left untried of procuring informaiion, desiring 
all his acquaintance in Paris, and all who were going thi- 
ther, to transmit him whatever they could collect, v\heiher 
of a private nature, or the more public documents which 
might appear on either side. Among his correspondents 
at this moment, besides M. Dupont and other natives of 
distinction, of the reasonable class of well- wishers to free- 
dom, were others of a different stamp; Nir. Christie, the 
noted Thomas Paine, and the equally notorious Baron 
(otherwise Anacharsis) Clootz ; the two latter men more 
especially, who, though the very fanatics of revolution 
and republicanism, were fated to supply, unintentionally 
on their part, some of the materials which Mr. Burke, 



308 LIFE OF THE 

with equal speed and dexterity, sharpened into their most 
powerful antidotes. 

To another correspondent, M. de Menonville, a rela- 
tion of the Baron de Menou and a member of the National 
Assembly, who requested his opinion of their affairs to- 
wards the end of September, 1789, he wrote early in the 
following month, plainly exhibiting the gradual develop- 
ment of his opinions and apprehensions, as events took a 
more decided turn : 

" As you are pleased to think that your splendid flame 
of liberty u as first lighted up at my faint and glimmering 
taper, you have a right to call upon me for my sentiments 
on whatever relates to that subject. * * * * 

*' You may easily believe that I have had my eyes 
turned wiih great curiosity, and no small concernment, to 
the astonishing scene now displayed in France. It has 
certainly given rise in my mind to many reflections, and 
to s{;me emoii(;ns. These are natural and unavoidable ; 
but it would ill become me to be too ready in forming a 
positive opinion upon matters transacted in a country, 
with the correct political map of which I must be very 
imperfectly acquainted. Things, indeed, have already 
happened so much beyond the scope of all speculation, 
that persons of infinitely more sagacity than I have,.ought 
to be ashamed of any thing like confidence in reasoning 
upon the operation of any principle, or the effect of any 
measure. It would become me least of all to be so con- 
fident, who ought at my time of life to have well learned 
the important lesson of self-distrust — a lesson of no small 
value in company with the best information — but which 
alone can make any sort of amends for our not having 
learned other lessons so well as it was our business to 
have learned them. * * * * 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 309 

" You hope, Sir, that T think the French deserving of 
liberty. I certainly do. I certainly think that all men 
who desire it deserve it. It is not the reward of our tne-^ 
rit, or the acquisition of our industry. It is our inherit-y^ 
ance. It is the birth-right of our species. We cannot 
forfeit our ri^ht to it, but by what forfeits our title to the 
privileges of our kind, I mean the abuse or abtwion of our ■ 
national faculties ; and a ferocious indocility, which makes 
us prompt to wrong and violence^ destroys our social na- 
ture^ and transforms us into something little better than 
a description of wild beasts. To men so de.i^raded a state 
of strong constraint is a sort of necessary substitute for 
freedom ; since, bad it is, it may deliver them in some 
measure from the worst of all slavery, that is, the despo- 
tism of their own blind and brutal .passions. You have 
kindly said that you began to love freedom from your in- 
tercourse with me. Permit me then to continue our con- 
versation, and to tell you what the freedom is that I love. 
It is not solitary, unconnefted, individual, selfish liberty. 
It is social freedom. It is that stdte of things in xvhich 
the liberty of no man^ and no body ofmen^ is in a condition 
to trespass on the liberty of any person^ or any description 
oj persons, in society. This kind of liberty is, indeed^ ' 
but another name for justice, ascertained by wise la^vs, . 
and secured by well constructed inbtitutions. I am sure 
that liberty so incorporat^jd, and in a manner identified 
with justice, must be infinffely dear to every man who is 
capable of conceiving what it is. But whenever a sepa- 
ration is made between liberty and justice, neither is, in 
my opinion, safe. I do not believe that men ever did 
submit, certain I am that they never ought to have ^u'j- 
niitted, to the arbitrary pleasure of one man, but under 
circumstances, in which the arbitrary pleasure of many 
persons in the community pressed with an intolerable 



310 LIFE OF THE 

hardship upon the just and equal rights of their fellows. 
Such a choice niijj;ht be made as among evils. The mo- 
ment xvill is set above reason and justice in any commu- 
nity, a jrreat question may arise in sober minds, in what 
part or portion of the community that dangerous dominion 
of w?7/ may be least rnisrhievously placed. ^ * * * 

" I have nothing to check my wi'^hes towards the es- 
tablishment of a solid and rational scheme of liberty in 
France. On the subject of the relative nf)U'er of nations 
I may have prejudices; but I envy internal freedom, secu- 
rity, and good order, to none. When, therefore, I shall 
learn that in France the citizen, by whatever description 
he is qualified, is in a perfect state of legal security, with 
regard to his life, to his property, to the uncontrolled dis- 
posal of his person, to the free use of his industry and his 
faculties ; — when 1 hear that he is protected in the bene- 
ficial enjoyment of the estates to which, by the course of 
settled law, he was born, or is provided with a fair com- 
pensation for them ; that he is maintained in the full frui- 
tion of the adv antages belonging to the state and condition 
of life in which he had lawfully engaged himself, or is 
supplied with an equittible equivalent ; — when I am as- 
sured, that a simple citizen may decently express his sen- 
timents upon public affairs, without hazard to his life or 
liberty, even though against a predominant and fashiona- 
ble opinion ; — when 1 know all this of France, I shall be 
as well pleased as every one must be, whp has not forgot 
the general communion of mankind, nor lost his natural 
sympathy in local and accidental connexions." 

This paper, though not published by one of Mr. Burke's 
friends, is in itself too masterly and too characteristic, to 
be mistaken for the vvork of any other writer of the age; 
and the sentiments surely are such, as the most ardent 
lover of liberty cannot find fault vwith. In a second com- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE, 311 

munication to the same correspondent, he becomes more 
explicit as the scene itself becomes changed : 

" As for me, I have read, and with some attention, the 
authorised or rather equally authentic documents on this 
subject; from the first instructions to the representative 
of the several orders, down to this time. What else I 
have read has been for the greater part on the side of 
those who have a considerable share in the formation and 
conduct of public measures. A great many of the most 
decisive events, I conceive, are not disputed as facts, 
though, as usual, there is some dispute about their causes 
and their tendencies. On comparing the whole of fact, 
of public document, and of what can be discerned of the 
general temper of the French people, I perfectly agree 
with you that there is very little likelihood of the old go- 
vernment's regaining its former authority. Were the 
King to escape from his palace, where he is now, in 
reality, a prisoner with his wife and almost his whole 
family, to what place could he fly? Every town in France 
is a Paris. I see no way by which a second revolution 
can be accomplished. The only chance seems to consist 
in the extreme instability of every species of power, 
and the uncertainty of every kind of speculation. In 
this I ai^^ree with you ; in most other particulars I can by 
no means go so far. That a police is established in Paris, 
I can readily believe. They have an army, as I hear, 
of 6000 men. * * * Tiiey have the means of preserving 
quiet; and since they have completely attained their ends, 
they must have the disposition. A total anarchy is a 
self-destructive thidg. But if the same ends should here- 
ajter require the same course, which have been already 
pursued^ there is no doubt but the same ferocious delight 
in murder, and the same savage cruelty^ will be again re- 
newed. If any of those horrid deeds, which sureiy have 



Bi2 LIFE OF THE 

not been misrepresented to us, were the acts of the rulers, 
what are ue to think of an armed people under such 
rulers? Or if (which possibly may be tlie case) there is 
in reality and substance no ruler, and that the chiefs are 
driven before the people, rather than lead them; and if 
the armed corps are composed of men, who have no 
fixed principle of obedience, and are embodied only by 
the prevalence of some general inclination; who can 
repute himself safe among a people so furious and so 
senseless? * * * 

" In all appearance, the new system is a most bungling 
and unworkmanlike performance. I confess I see no 
principle of coherence, co-operation, or just subordination 
of parts in this whole pr ject, nor any the least aptitude 
to the conditions and wants of the state to which it is 
applied, nor any thing well imagined for the formation, 
provision, or direction of a common force. The direct 
contrary appears to me. * * * Man is a gregarious 
animal. He will by degrees provide some convenience 
suitable to this his natural disposition ; and this strange 
thing (the system adopted by the National Assembly ) 
may some time or other assume a more habitable f rm. 
The fish will at length make a shell which will fit him. 
I beg pardon for dwelling so long, and employing so 
much thought upon a subject, on which its contrivers 
have evidently employed so little. I cannot think with 
you that the assembly have done much. They have, 
indeed, undone a great deal; and so completely broken 
up their country as a State, that I assure you there are 
few here such antigallicans as not to feel some pity on 
the deplorable view of the wreck of France. I confess 
to you, that till I saw it, I could not conceive that any 
men in publiq could have s,hown so little mercy to their, 
country. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 313 

^' You say, my dear sir, they read Montesqiiieu~I 
believe not. — It they do, they do not understand him. 
He is often obscure, sometimes misled by system; but on 
the whole, a learned and ingenious writer, and sometimes 
a most profound thinker. Sure it is, that they have not 
followed him in any one thing; they have done. Had he 
lived at this time, he would certainly be amons^ the fugi- 
tives from France. With regard to the other writers \ou 
speak of, I do believe the directors of the present system 
to be infli enced by them. Such masters ! such scholars ! 
Who ever dreamt of Voltaire and Rousseau as legislators ? 
The first has the merit of writing agreeably ; and nobody 
has ever united blasphemy and obscenity so happily to- 
gether. The other was not a little deranged in his intel- 
lects, to my almost certain knowledge. But he saw 
things in bold and uncommon lights, and he was very 
eloquent. — But as to the rest, I have read long since the 
Contrat Social. It has left very few traces upon my 
mind. I thought it a performance of litde or no merit; 
and little did I conceive that it could ever make revolu- 
tions, and give law to nations. But so it is. I see some 
people here are willing that we should become their 
scholars too, and reform our State on the French model. 
They have begun ; and it is high time for those who wish 
to preserve morem majorum to look about them. 

At the moment this was written, few indeed could 
agree in opinion with the sagacious writer, of the evils 
attendant on the Revolution. Yet after every allowance 
for the generous feelings of the moment, all considerate 
men must have been convinced, that the utter subversion 
of every thing establibhed in a State can never, under any 
circumstances, be justifiable or u ise. Even great changes 
in the supreme authorities, though, perhaps, sometimes 
necessary, are always fearfully dangerous. They must 

R r 



311 LIFE OF THE 

not be adopted but in the last extremity, and then man- 
aged only by the most delicate and experienced hands. 
Earthquakes and hurricanes possibly produce good, but 
few sober men like to be within the sphere of their ope- 
ration. It is just so with revolutions. The good is pro- 
blematical. The way to it at least is through a bog of 
confusion and evil, a scene too often of moral desolation 
— of over-turned laws, property, and connexions — in 
which wantonly to throw down every ancient land-mark 
is wilfully to wander out of the road, and to plunge into 
inextricable difficulties which destroy every hope of ad- 
vantage from the changes in view. Such, however, was 
the effect of example, that many persons in England, dis- 
regarding the blessings of the practical freedom they 
enjoyed, professed not only to admire the speculative 
reveries of France, but a wish to put some of the principal 
into practice. The delusion was wide and deep-rooted, 
— more general, indeed, than it is now easy to believe ; 
nor did it, with a few even of our greatest men, speedily 
pass away. 

Mr. Burke, whose indignation received a new impulse, 
from what he termed ' this gross infatuation,' ' this abstract 
folly and practical wickedness,' and whose worst antici- 
pations w ere realised by every arrival from France, ex- 
pressed considerable surprise when told that Mr. Fox, 
with whom there had been some cessation of confidential 
intercourse, entertained very different opinions. He had, 
in consequence, almost come to the resolution not volun- 
tarily to obtrude his sentiments on the subject in Parlia- 
ment; not at least till compelled by a sense of duty para- 
mount to all private considerations. Such an opportunity 
soon arrived. 

In two debates on the army estimates (5th and 9th of 
February, 1790) Mr. Fox not only eulogized the Revo- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 315 

lution generally, but was imprudent enough to specify 
some points of particular admiration — among others the 
defection of the French military from their officers and 
government; being, in fact, tacit connivance at the worst 
excesses of the populace. Colonel Phipps and others 
reprobated these sentiments loudl\ . Mr. Burke, on the 
second occasion expressing the highest admiration for 
the talents of his honourable friend, and the consequent 
danger to our own coiintry of giving the sanction of his 
name to such doctrines, entered into an examination of 
the state of France, the principles, proceedings, and ten- 
dencies of the Revolution; condemning in bitter terms 
the incurable ignorance of the leaders, their folly, injus- 
tice, and wickedness, their pedantic theories, their abuse 
of elementary principles; and contrasted it with the Eng- 
lish Revolution; in which, though some were fond of 
comparing them, he could find not a single point of re- 
semblance. He hated the old despotism of France, and 
still more he hated the new : it was a plundering, fero- 
cious, bloody, tyrannical democracy, without a single 
virtue to redeem its crimes, and so far from being, as his 
honourable friend had inadvertently said, worthy of imi- 
tation, he would spend his last breath and the last drop 
of his blood — he would quit his best friends, and join 
his worst enemies, to oppose the least tittle of such a 
spirit, or such an example in England. 

This speech, which contained no compliment to ad- 
ministration, but on the contrary displayed an adverse 
spirit, was nevertheless received by them and by a great 
majority of the House with loud applause. Mr. Pitt was 
among the most conspicuous ; he had incautiously been 
led to express some opinion in favour of the struggle 
then going on, but alarmed at its further progress or as- 
pect, now appeared to wheel round to concur in the 



316 LIFE OF THE 

sentiments of Mr. Burke. No matter, lie said, how they 
had d ffered on former points of policy, he feh for him on 
that occasion the hii^hest gratitude and reverence, and 
not only the present i^eneration but the latest posterity 
would revere his name, for the decided part he had that 
day taken. 

The rejily of Mr. Fox was mild and conciliatory. He 
had ever, and did then, entertain the higliest veneration 
for the jud_u;ment of his honourable friend ; by him he 
had been instructed more ihun by all other men and 
books put together; by him he had been taught to love 
our constitution ; from him he had acquired all his political 
knov^'ledge; "his speech on that day, some arguments 
and observations excepted, was one of the wisest and 
most brilliant flights of oratory ever delivered in that 
House," but, with all these admissions, his opinions on 
the subject in (jueslion continued unshaken. 

A rejoinder from Mr. Burke expressed an equally 
complimentary and conciliatory spirit; and the subject, 
tender as it evidently was, would have dropped, at least 
for the present without further consequences, had not the 
zeal of Mr. Sheridan, in support of the new opinions, 
urged him on to charge his old political associate as a 
deserter from his former principles — as an assailant of the 
basis of freedom itself — as the advocate and apologist of 
despotism — and the libeller of men struggling in the most 
glorious of all causes. The reply to these unmeasured 
censures was calm, but decided. Such terms, Mr. Burke 
said, might have been spared, if for nothing more than as 
a sacrifice to the ghost of departed friendship; they were 
but a repetition of what was said by the reforming clubs 
and societies with which the honourable gentleman had 
lately become entangled, and for whose applause he had 
chosen to sacrifice his friend ; though he might in time 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 317 

find that it was not worth the price at which it was pur- 
chased. Henceforward, lie added, they were separated 
in poHiics for ever. 

This schism threatened such serious consequences to 
the interests of the party, that attempts were instantly 
made, and repeated two days afterwards, to heal it by 
mutual explanation, in presence of some of the chief 
Members at Burlington House; they met at ten o'clock 
at night, and debated the matter until three next morning, 
separating then, as they met, with irreconcileable differ- 
ences of opinion. The display of talents on both sides 
is said to have been remarkable. Mr. Burke was cool, 
expressing the most amical)le sentiments, and the im- 
pression as to services, powers, and opinions, proved so 
much in his favour from those present, that Mr. Sheri- 
dan took offence, and for the remainder of this session 
and the beginning of the next, ceased from his usual 
active support in Parliament. 

Some personal dislike prevailed between these distin- 
guished men ever after^\ards, nor were they perhaps very 
cordial before. Mr. Burke, who always complimented 
his talents, did not for many reasons place equal confi- 
dence in his general conduct or principles, one cause for 
which was his alleged breach of political faith in intrigu- 
ing for one of the highest Cabinet situations in the new 
arrangements consequent on the settling of the Regency 
question, to the exclusion of older and higher claimants. 
He suspected also that he was the cause of Mr. Fox with- 
drawing from him his political confidence. The wit, on 
the other hand, as he rose high in the private favour of an 
illustrious personage, and in the esteem of his party, felt 
some impatience of the preponderance of Mr. Burke ; he 
possessed little of the humility of the latter in the estimate 
of his own importance ; with much less of talent he had 



318 LIFE OF THE 

more than his ambition ; and forgetful of the disciplined 
subordination of the old Whig school, aimed at vaulting 
at once to the head of the connexion over superior talents 
and longer services, though without private weight him- 
self, without any strong hold on public confidence, and as 
was generally believed, without the diligence necessary 
to conduct pubhc business. After their disagreement, 
it was remarked that he always sat silent in private com= 
pany, when Mr. Burke was a theme of praise with every 
one else ; in Parliament hs spoke of him more than once, 
" as one for whose talents and personal virtue he enter- 
tained the highest esteem, veneration, and regard ;" a 
compliment which did not prevent him from making fre- 
quent, pointed, and personal attacks on the object of it, 
but which Mr. Burke rarely deigned to regard. To his 
counsels, also, it has always been said, that the subse- 
quent quarrel of the former with Mr. Fox was owing. 

The next avowed difference of opinion with Opposition 
was on the repeal of the Corporation and Test Acts, mov- 
ed by Mr. Fox on the 2d of March. Mr. Burke de- 
clared, that had it been broiight forward ten years sooner, 
he would have conceived himself bound to vote in the af- 
firmative ; but such doubts had since arisen in his mind, 
that when the same question was moved by Mr. Beaufoy 
in 1787 and 1789, unwilling to vote against it, yet not 
satisfied that he was right in voting for it, he had with- 
drawn from the House without voting at all. 

At present, he thought the repeal more particularly in- 
expedient — there was a wild spirit of innovation abroad, 
which required to be checked — the avowed leaders of the 
dissenters, alluding to Drs. Price, Priestley, Kippis, 
Towers, and others — had in their speeches, writings, re- 
solutions, and even sermons, given countenance not only 
to the very questionable spirit of the day, but one or two 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 319 

of them had openly ihreatened a direct attack on the 
Church Estabhshment. Such he beheved was not the 
intention of the respectable body with whom those per- 
sons were connected ; he had ever entertained for that 
body the highest esteem and respect; but while they per- 
mitted such persons to take the lead in their affairs, their 
pretensions would be received with suspicion ; and after 
all, as some test, he believed, would be required by the 
country, if these acts were repealed, he had brought the 
draught of one in his pocket ; — this, however, he did not 
produce, neither did he remain to give his vote. What- 
ever was the cause, whether from the effect of his speech, 
the exertions of Mr. Pitt, or the general alarm in the 
country, this question, which in the preceding session re- 
ceived a faint negative from no more than 20, was now 
smothered by a majority of 189. 

The other chief subjects of the session in which he 
took part, were in opposing a motion for Parliamentary 
Reform by Mr. Flood (Mr. Fox honestly confessing, that 
though he thought such a measure necessary, the people 
did not seem to be of the same opinion ;) — in supporting 
the address on the quarrel with Spain ; — and on matters 
connected with the impeachment. 

A proposition, through the medium of some common 
friends, was made to Mr. Burke about this period, by his 
former acquaintance Gerrard Hamilton, to renew that in- 
timacy which had so long suffered estrangement, but this 
offer he declined. He had told Mr. Flood at the time, 
there was " an eternal separation'^ between them, — that 
" he would not keep a memorial of such a person about 
him," and possibly the recollection of some random sar- 
casms which Hamilton, though he always did full justice 
to his uncommon powers, had occasionally let off against 
his party and himself, might have tended to make him 



220 LIFE OF THE 

keep his word. The reply made to the communication 
was, that without entert lining the slis^htest resentful or 
unfriendly feeling toward Mr. Hamilton, there were seve- 
ral circumstances in their connexion and separation, par- 
ticularly the obloquy thrown upon his character without 
cause, which would prevent his enjoying the same plea- 
sure as formerly in his society. It is said, that had Lord 
Temple ever become Minister, it was his intention to 
make Mr. Hamilton his Chancellor of the Exchequer ; 
and it must ever be considered an enigma, that any one 
looking to such a post, should not have made himself of 
more importance in Parliament than he did by frequently 
speaking. No explanation has ever been given of his 
taciturnity, except the illiberal one, that he already enjoy- 
ed in a rich sinecure all the substantial return he could 
expect for much talking. 



CHAPTER XL 

PubUcation of Rejlections on the Revolution in France, 
• — Thomas Paine. — Letter to a Member of the Na- 
tional Assembly. — Rupture with Mr. Fox. — Appeal 
from the New to the Old fVhigs.^Junj Bill of 179L 
— Anecdotes. 

From the moment of the rupture with Mr. Sheridan, . ^ 
Mr. Burke, perceiving that his opinions on the French '^^ 
Revolution were misrepresented, and willing also to state 
them more fully and forcibly to the \\or!.l, as well as to 
enable the reflecting part of it to think more justly, as he 
believed, of the event itself, decided to call in the aid of 
the press. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 3S1 

This task was begun and carried on diirinj^ the sum- 
mer with his wonted ardour and disregard of labour, and 
alluding to the anxious emotions to which it gave rise, 
say^, in a letter to Lord Charlemont, of the 25th Mav, 
" I have been at once much occupied and much agitated 
with my employment." The elements of the vvork, how- 
ever, had been for some months floating in his mind, and 
in fact no inconsiderable portion of it, or at least matter 
nearly similar, already in various forms committed to pa- 
per. These were collected, re- v\ritten, enlarged, amende^, 
and re modelled to the form in •-* hich he had determine d 
to publish, that of a letter to the French gentleman who 
had before consulted hirn on the subject ; the whole was 
polished with extraordinary car-?, more than a dozen of 
proofs being worked off" and destroyed before he could 
please himself; it was set off with every attraction of the 
highest style of eloquence of which the English language 
is susceptible ; it was i{uj)ressed on the judgment by 
acute reasoning, by great penetration into the motives of 
human action, by maxims of the most sound and practical 
wisdom : nothing, indeed, w hich his genius, his know- 
ledge, or his observation could supply, was omitted to 
give popularity to the " Rcfiecti(jns on the Revolution in 
France." 

In the beginning of November, 1790, this celebrated 
work made its appearance, and a French translation, by 
his friend M. Dupont,* quickly spread its reputation 
over all Europe. The publication proved one of the re- 
markable events of the year, perhaps of the century ; for 
it may be doubted whether any previous production ever 
excited so much attention, so much discussion, so much 

* A letter to this gentleman from Mr. Burke appeared soon 
afterwards in the newspapers, on the character of Henry IV. of 
France. 

Ss 



3Sa LIFE OF THE 

praise, so much animadversion, and ultimately, among 
the great majority of persons, such general conviction, 
having fully succeeded in turning the stream of public 
opinion to the direction he wished, from the channel in 
which it had hitherto flowed. The circulation of the 
book corresponded with its fame ; about 30,000 copies 
were sold when there was not a third of the demand for 
books of any kind that there is at present — a greater sale, 
it is said, than that of any preceding work whatever of 
the same price. The interest excited by it did not cease 
with the moment ; for it was sought after by persons 
little prone to political discussion for the wisdom of the 
lessons it taught ; by many for its literary beauties ; by 
many in order to retrace the outline of fearful and extra- 
ordinary events there in great measure foretold ; and it 
will ever be a source of deep interest to the practical 
statesman, and of attention to the man of taste and genius. 

The testimonies of applause and admiration which 
flowed in upon the writer from every quarter, evinced his 
power over the question at issue ; for few authors, per- 
haps none, were ever before so complimented. 

The Sovereigns subsequently assembled at Pilnitz, 
particularly the Emperor of Germany, transmitted their 
warm approbation by a message through more than one 
channel ; the French Princes, through Mons. Cazales ; 
Catherine of Russia ordered her Embassador, Count de 
Woronzow, formally to communicate the same ; Stanis- 
laus, the unfortunate King of Poland, sent him his like- 
ness on a gold medal ; his late Majesty, George III., not 
only gave it an attentive perusal, but had a number of 
copies elegantly bound, which he distributed among his 
friends, with the remark, that it was ** a book which every 
gentleman ought to read." Trinity College, Dublin, in 
full convocation, unanimously conferred upon him, Janu- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 3S3 

ary 1, 1791, the honorary degree of L L. D., and after- 
wards voted him an address in a gold box — ■" as the pow- 
erful advocate of the constitution, the friend of public 
order, virtue, and the happiness of mankind ; and, in tes- 
timony of the high respect entertained by the University 
for the various endowments of his capacious mind, and 
for his superior talents and abilities." An address of 
thanks from the resident graduates of Oxford was com- 
municated through Mr. Windham, in their own language, 
" as a tribute which we are desirous of paying to splen- 
did talents employed in the advancement of public good;" 
and, " as Members of a University, whose institutions 
embrace every useful and ornamental part of learning, 
"we should esteem ourselves justified in making this ad- 
dress, if we had only to offer you our thanks for the valu- 
able accession which the stock of our national literature 
has received by the publication of your important ' Re- 
flections.^ " A temporary cabal prevented the diploma 
ofLL. D. being conferred on him, though his philo- 
sophical essay on the Sublime and Beautiful forms a book 
of reference in their establishment. The Archbishop of 
Aix, and others of the dignified clergy of France, wrote 
several letters, expressive of their obligations and acknow- 
ledgments, " that the first orator of England had become 
their defender." Nearly all of our own church, the great 
body of the nobility, the most eminent statesmen, philo- 
sophers, and several of the chief men of letters, pro- 
nounced him the saviour of our own and of all established 
governments. 

Gibbon was particularly warm in his applause. " I 
thirst," said he, a short time before he saw tlie volume, 
" for Mr. Burke's Reflections on the Revolution in 
France." Afterwards he writes, in two letters, " Burke's 
book is a most admirable medicine against the French 



S21s LIFE OF The 

disease. — I admire his eloquence ; I approve his politics; 
I adore his chivalry ; and I can almost forgive his reve- 
rence for church establishments,'' " I conceive," said 
Cumberland, seldom given to eulogium, but who on this 
occasion was surprised into an express letter of congra- 
tulation, " there is not to be found in all the writings of 
iTjy day, perhaps I may say not in the FLnglish language, 
so brilliant a cluster of fine and beautiful passages as we 
are presented with in Edmund Burke's inimitable tract 
on the French Revolution." 

Many similar testimonies might be transcribed, but 
that delivered soon afterwards by a professed political 
opponent, the late Lord (then Mr.) Erskine, is too just 
and characteristic to be omitted. "I shall take care to put 
Mr. Burke's work, on the French Revolution, into the 
hands of those whose principles are left to my formation. 
I shall take care that they have the advantage of doing, 
in the regular progression of youthful studies, what I have 
done even in the short intervals of laborious life ; that 
they shall transcribe, with their own hands, from all the 
works of this most extraordinary person, and from the 
last among the rest, the soundest truths of religion ; the 
justest principles of morals, inculcated and rendered de- 
lightful by the most sublime eloquence ; the highest reach 
of philosophy, brought down to the level of common 
minds, by the most captivating taste ; the most enlight- 
ened observations on history, and the most copious col- 
lection of useful maxims from the experience of common 
life." 

Dr. Beattie, who, as far as opinions went, had always 
been opposed to him in politics, but who knew the sound- 
ness of bis principles when any real danger threatened 
the state, thus writes, Ajiril ii5th, 1790, six months be- 
fore the publication.—" I wish Mr. Burke would publish 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 335 

what he intended on the present state of France. He is 
a man of principle, and a friend to religion, to law, and 
to monarchy, as uell as to liberty." 

On the other hand, this book was reprobated as as- 
sailing the very foundation of liberty, by a party bold, 
numerous, and able, at the head of which, or at least 
countenancing it, stood Mr. Fox. His censures were 
unreserved and delivered as he himself avowed in all 
companies public and private, whenever it became a sub- 
ject of discussion ; some months afterwards he termed 
it in the House of Commons, with more of pique or less 
of judgment than could be expected from such a man, 
" a libel on all free governments," and, " he disliked it 
as much as any of Mr. Paine's ;" almost verifying a re- 
mark of Burke at a future period, that *' the French Revo- 
lution had not merely shaken all the thrones of Europe, 
but shaken his friend Fox's heart and understanding out 
of their right places." The party besides embraced 
many other Members of Opposition, some philosophers, 
the great body of literary men, some clergymen, many 
lawyers, many dissenting ministers, and nine-tenths of 
the profession of physic — all therefore belonging to the 
educated classes, but the great majority without claim to 
any practical acquaintance with politics; men deep in 
speculation, and in books, but wholly ignorant of the 
workings of governments ; who knew nothing of human 
nature in great and untried emergencies, such as the state 
of France then exhibited; who mistook warm feelings 
for sound principles ; some who, with good intentions 
toward mankind, uould have committed the grossest er- 
rors in reducing them to practice ; and many whose views 
upon the constitution of the country were more than 
questionable. 



336 LIFE OF THE 

By this body Mr. Burke and his Work* were assail- 
ed with a degree of animosity unprecedented in the poli- 
tical warfare even of England, and so perseveringly con- 
tinued to the present day by the remnants of that order of 
politicians, that among the half-read classes of society 
who seldom like the labour of inquiring or thinking for 
themselves, there is a kind of common agreement to cen- 
sure his conduct and doctrines without knowing v\!iat 
they really were. No pains were spared to produce this 
effect. Every epithet of abuse in the language was ap- 
plied to him ; every action, or expression of his life that 
could be tortured into a sinister meaning, was raked up 
in order to show his inconsistency, yet after all proved so 
few and frivolous, that thev have not been thousjht worth 
repeating ; and thus, he *' whose whole life had been a 
struggle for the liberty of others" was reviled as the ene- 
my of all liberty. 

The truth was, that their and his ideas of liberty were, 
and ahvays had been, different. They were angry that a 
man, so long and generally celebrated as its advocate, 
should hesitate to give his sanction to any thing which 
assumed the name ; they made no allowances for having 
mistaken him ; because he differed in opinion with them, 

* A celebrated phrase, contained in this book, was bruited 
about in every form of speech and writing, in order to excite the 
popular indignation. In speaking of the destruction of the nobi- 
lity and gentry, he said, that along with these its natural protec- 
tors learning would be "trodden down under the hoofs of a swi- 
nish multitude.'' The expression, though plainly figurative, was 
tortured to mean that he actually thought the people no better 
than swine, yet all other impassioned writers have dealt in the 
same license of language without reproach or even remark; 
among which the reader will immediately recollect " the com- 
mon dung o' the soil," and many others as strong, applied to the 
mass of mankind. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. S27 

it was inferred, however absurdly, that he must differ 
from himself. I'hey thought that liberty, no matter in 
u hat form it came, or how accompanied, or by whatever 
qualities or characteristics distinguished, must necessarily 
be good. They looked chiefly to the abstract figure of 
the thing, rather than to the effects it produced. 

Mr. Burke, on the contrary, would not allow the term 
liberty to be applicable to a system whose course was 
stained by incessant violence and bloodshed, which in- 
flicted or permitted the most grinding tyranny and injus- 
tice on persons and property, which was in itself a crude 
and untried theory, unsanctioned by reason and undisci- 
plined by law ; at variance with the experience of man- 
kind, and with the ancient and reasonable habits and 
institutions of the country itself. The liberty decreed 
by the National Assembly he considered the vilest of 
mockeries. Liberty, no matter how plausible the form, 
was, in his opinion, liberty, only when it secured equal 
civil rights, equal justice and protection, equal social 
enjoyments and privileges to all members of the commu- 
nity. 

Sentiments similar to these occur so frequently in his 
earlier and later works, in all his speeches and writings, 
that it seems strange how they could ever be misunder- 
stood. The passage already quoted from his speech 
against the repeal of the Marriage Act, in 1782, is 
strongly illustrative of similar rational principles. Ano- 
ther passage from an old report of one of his speeches at 
Bristol, in 1774, speaks the same language : " The dis- 
tinguishing part of our constitution is its liberty. To pre- 
serve that liberty inviolate seems the particular duty and 
proper trust of a Member of the House of Commons. 
But the liberty, the only liberty 1 mean, is a liberty con- 
nected with order ; that not only exists along with virtttr 



328 LIFE OF THE 

and order^ but which cannot exist xvithout themJ^ Ad- 
dressing the same constituents in 1780. in allusion to the 
condition of the Roman Catholics, he says, '■'■ 1 77uist fairly 
tell you^ that so far as my principles are concerned (prin- 
ciples that I hope will only depart with my last breath) 
that I have no idea of a liberty unconnected with honesty 
and Justice ; * * factions in republics have been and are 
full as capable as monarchs of the most cruel oppreision 
and injustice ; it is but too true, that the love and even 
the very idea of genuine liberty is extremely rare." — 

Any one professing such sentiments could not in fact, 
to preserve h-s consistency, do otherwise than oppose 
the French Revolution as Mr. B irke did. We have 
seen that he had his doubts of its nature from the first, 
and far from blowing hot and cold upon it in a breath 
like some of his contemporaries, gradually rose from cau- 
tion to apprehension, from apprehension to certainty, that 
such proceedings as he saw going on could be productive 
only of enormous evils. He did not hate the revolution 
in Franch simply because it was a revolution,* but be- 
cause it was an execrably bad one ; or rather the utter 
dissolution at a blow, of government, religion, and mo- 
rals, — all the elements which not merely bind men toge- 
ther, but have in fact from the condition of savages made 
us men. He did not war against liberty, but against the 

* It is well known that he highly approved of the revolution 
in Poland going on about the same time, because, instead of plung- 
ing their country into anarchy, the leading men there exerted all 
their talents to rescue it from such a state by instituting a wise 
and constitutional f<»rm of government. Unhappily it proved ill- 
timed. Catherine of Russia made it a pretext for annihilating 
both it and the existence of the country as an independent state ; 
and Buonaparte, when it was in his power, had not generosity 
enough to reverse the iniquitous proceeding. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 329 

abuses committed under its name, not against freedom but 
aijainst licentiousness. He allow ed no inherent power in 
the half or the majority of a nation to annihilate the per- 
sons, property, or honours of the remainder at their will 
and pleasure, by way of political experiment or specula- 
tive improvement ; he could not admit the ri^ht of any 
people to do wh.U they pleased, until he first knew what 
it pleased them to do." 

It is a remarkable fact, and another instance of the keen- 
ness and length of view of Mr. Burke, that though the 
danger was obvious to him. neither the government nor 
the nation at larp;e had any idea that French opinions v\ ere 
50 generally diffused in England, or that they had made 
so many converts. But the publication of his book dis- 
closed the extent of the mischief by the number of an- 
swers it produced ; the writer of this has counted no less 
than thirty-ei^ht which came out within a few months; 
several have doubtless escaped his notice, and some may 
have appeared at a later period; but were all the letters, 
essays, fragments, and invectives of every denomination 
collected, which have appeared then and since, in maga- 
zines, reviews, newspapers, annual registers, and every 
form of publication, periodical and other wise, they would 
amount to many thousands. 

In the list of the opponents were the names of Priest- 
ley, Price (w ho dying soon after the appearance of the 
"Reflections," which his sermon had par;ly provoked,. 
was said by his friends to have hurt him and by others 
to have killed him,) Earl Stanhope, Mrs. \\"olstonecraft, 
Mrs. Macaulay Graham, Mr. (dovv Sir James) Mackin- 
tosh, and Thomas Paine. Some oi their works have vo- 
luntarily soui^ht (.l)livion, and some have been reluctantly 
forced into it. The " Vindiciae Gallicae" alone was the 
production of a sober inquirer, a scholar, and a gentleman, 
T t 



330 LIFE OF THE 

at once bold and liberal in his opposition, who could ad- 
vocate what he thought freedom to others without mad- 
ly assaulting the foundations of our own, who could in- 
vestigate doctrines without descending to personal abuse 
of the author, who, in endeavouring to refute them, could 
admit his worth, his extraordinary powers, and, in spite 
of the clamour to the contrary, the general consistency of 
his life and principles. Such a man was, and still is, Sir 
James Mackintosh, a statesman of the first class, who, if 
not at the head of his party, is certainly not jostled from 
it by any thing like superiority of mind among his col- 
leagues. 

Of a very different description was " The Rights of 
Man," by Thomas Paine. This remarkable character, 
who had arrived from America in 1787, brought with 
him a letter of introduction to Mr. Burke from the Hon. 
Henry Laurens, Ex-President of Congress, and who it 
w ill be remembered had been released from the Tower 
in 1781, by the exertions of the former, requesting the 
exertion of his influence to attract public notice to some 
mechanical contrivances of Mr. Paine, particularly the 
model of an iron bridge. Mr. Burke, with his accus- 
tomed hospitality, invited him to Beaconsfield, took him 
during a summer excursion to Yorkshire to several iron 
founderies there in order to gain the opinions of practical 
men, and introduced him to several persons of rank ; to 
which there is an allusion in the following note to Mn 
Wilkes:— 

"My dear Sir, 

" I come at your requisition to the service of a cause 

rendered dearer to me by your accession to it. Since 

you w'll have it so, I will eat venison in honour of old 

England ; let me know at Gerrard Street when and where. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 331 

You make too much of the prattle of the world and the 
effect of any opinion of mine whether real or supposed. 
The libels and the panegyrics of the newspapers can nei- 
ther frighten nor A.-itter me out of my principles ; but 
(except for the evil of the example) it is no matter at all 
if they did. However, since you think my appearance 
something, you shall have me in my blue and buff; we 
all indeed long very much to see you, and are much your 
humble servants. I am just going to dine with the Duke 
of Pordand, in company with the great American Paine, 
%vhom I take u ith me. 

" Ever, my dear Sir, 

" Your most affectionate faithful friend, 

*' Edmitnd BurkEo 
" Beaconsfield, August 18tli, 1788. 

At this time, Paine, whom he did not distinctly know 
to be an Englishman, professed to have wholly relin- 
quished politics. But soon afterwards visiting France 
in order to inspect the plans and models in the Public 
Office of Bridges and Highways, introduced by a letter 
from Dr. Franklin to the Duke de la Rochefoucauld, the 
incipient disorders of that country revived in his mind 
the dormant spirit of turbulence and dissatisfaction to- 
wards existing institutions ; he returned to England to 
all appearance well informed of the designs of the popular 
leaders, of which many intelligible intimations were 
dropped to Mr. Burke, with a recommendation to him 
that he should endeavour to introduce a more enlarged 
system of liberty into England, using Reform in Parlia- 
ment as the most obvious means. 

This hint, thrown out probably to sound him, was, as 
may be believed, coldly received. " Do you really ima- 
gine, Mr. Pame, that the constitution of this kingdom 



83& LIFK OF THE 

requires such innovations, or could exist with then], or 
that any reflecting man would seriously engage in them? 
You are aware that I have all my life opposed such 
schemes of reform ; of course, because I knew them not 
to be reform." Not discouraged by this rebuff, Paine 
continued his correspondence from Paris in the summer 
of 1789, and there is no doubt whatever, first communi- 
cated to Ills distinguished acquaintance certain information 
that the destruction of the monarchy was resolved upon; 
that the leaders had determined to set fire to the four 
corners of France sooner than not carry their principles 
into practice ; and tliat no danger was to be apprehended 
from the army, for it was gained. This remarkable note 
is said by a friend of Mr. Burke's to be dated only three 
da^vS before the destruction of the Bastile. 

Though his intimacy with Mr. Burke had declined 
previously to the appearance of the " Reflections," his 
more noxious peculiarities remained unknown; the level- 
ler and the deist being shrouded under the guise of the 
ingenious mechanist. But the " Rights of Man," written 
as an answer to Mr. Burke's work, exhibited at once the 
mental deformity of the man, inimical to nearly every 
thing that bore the stamp of authority, or of time, or of 
opinion. In accordance with this system, he had long 
before stifled the best feelings of our nature by violation 
of the marriage tic; he had divested himself of the trou- 
blesome restraints of religion ; he had shaken oflfall con- 
fined notions of attachment to his country. Nothing of 
an Englishman remained of him but the name, and even 
this he tried to extinguish by becoming successively by 
adoption an American and a Frenchman: but as his prin- 
ciples were a scandal to all, all perhaps would willingly 
be rid of the dishonour attached to owning such a citizen. 

It was his aim, by perverting what capacity he pos- 



KIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 333 

sessed, not to make men better or happier but discontent' 
ed with what they were, with what they knew, or with 
what they already enjoyed. His systems, both in religion 
and pohtics, led not merely to the disorganization of 
states, but of the human mind itself, by setting it adrift 
on the waters of doubt and despair, without a resting- 
place or land mark for its guidance in this world, or hope 
in the next. To a style of writing and reasoning well 
adaj)ted to impose ujx)n ordinary understandings, he 
added a cool temper and designing head, unfettered by 
the common restraints and scruples of mankind. To the 
trades of stay-maker, schoolmaster, and exciseman, in 
his native country, he had added, in America, the frequent 
resort of desperate men, that of a patriot. He had proved 
a brute to his wife, a cheat to his trust, a traitor to his 
country, a reviler of his God and of his King; and having 
already successfully aided and abetted rebellion abroad, 
seemed to be cut out for the presiding genius of a revo- 
lution at home, if not prematurely taken off by the hand 
of the executioner. But, as if in his own person to warn 
us of the desolating tendency of his doctrines, he com- 
pleted the catalogue of his offences by adultery with the 
wife of his friend, by the brutal treatment and desertion 
of his victim, by inveterate drunkenness and abominable 
iilth of person. The very excess of his moral degrada- 
tion almost made him an object of compassion. His life 
was evil, and his end miserable. 

The book was characteristic of the man. Its purpose 
was, through the debasing principle of envy, which is 
after all the principle of a leveller, to reduce all mankind 
to one standard, to write up a sort of confusion made easy^ 
by addressing the baser against the better passions of 
our nature. It was an open declaration of hostility to all 
the institutions which we in England had been accustom- 



334i LIFE OF THE 

ed to consider as our ornament and pride ; not a reforns 
of the real or imaginary abuses of govern, nent, but a tacit 
recommendation to pull it down altogether for the plea- 
sure of building afresh on the republican model; good 
perhaps in the eyes of an American, but at variance with 
the habits, the feelings, the opinions, the honest convic- 
tions and prejudices of an Englishman. It affords an 
illustration of the phrenzy of the day, that this production 
was devoured rather than read, idolised rather than 
praised by that strong party, many of them of rank and 
influence, uho intent on committing a species of moral 
suicide, disseminated it in cheap editions through the 
country, thus flinging a fire-brand into every cottage to 
burst out and consume themselves ; while in the clubs 
and societies of cities the same insane spirit of animosity, 
under cover of affected satisfaction, was sho\vn in the 
favourite toast constantly drunk, — thanks to Mr. Burke 
for the discussion he has provoked, — as if they believed 
or wished that he had injured those vital interests of the 
state, of which in fact his book proved the salvation. 

A reply from the correspondent to whom the Reflections 
were addressed, about the opening of the Session in 
November, 1790, gave Mr. Burke an opportunity of 
following up his blow, by the " Letter to a Member of 
the National Assembly." In this, which appeared in 
February, 1791, he advances many new arguments, en- 
forces others, and draws the character of some of their 
writers, whom he terms " the jays and magpies of philo- 
sophy," particularly Rousseau, — " the great founder and 
professor of the philosophy of vanity," of whom he knew 
Something or heard almost daily when that strange cha- 
racter was in England in 1766 — with truth and ingenuiy. 
He asserts from positive knowledge that the excesses of 
the Revolution were not accidental, as some believed, 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 335 

or pretended to believe, but systematically designed, 
even previous to the meeting of the States-General : hints 
at the necessity for that coalition of the Sovereigns of 
Europe against France which took place a few months 
afterward ; and explicitly states the intention of the pre- 
vailing faction to put the King to death whenever his 
name became no longer necessary to their designs. 

The declaration by the French ambassador at this 
period, of his Sovereign's acceptance of the new consti- 
tution, drew from Mr. Burke a paper privately presented 
to the Ministry, " Hints for a Memorial to M. de Mont- 
morin." — It recommended the offer of British mediation 
between that Monarch and his subjects on the basis of a 
free constitution, to be guaranteed, if required, by Eng- 
land ; and in case of refusal by the popular party, to inti- 
mate the design of withdrawing our Minister from a 
Court where the Sovereign no longer enjoyed personal 
liberty. General opinion since has been in favour of the 
policy of the advice. 

In the mean time several threatening indications pro- 
claimed an approaching breach in the Whig party, very 
few of whom, scarcely one in short, except three or four 
personal friends, could be persuaded by Mr. Burke of 
the irretrievable mischiefs in progress in France, and 
likely to approach our own shores. Mr. Fox expressed 
his approval of the principles though not of the proceed- 
ings there, twice or thrice in unmeasured terms ; orjce, 
April 15th, in a debate on the Russian armament, when 
Mr. Burke rising to reply, was prevented by continued 
cries of question, and the late hour (three) of the morn- 
ing ; and again on a bill providing a constitution for 
Canada, April 8th, when that gentleman was not present; 
on this occasion he directed pointed censure against some 
of the chief doctrines in Mr. Burke's book, directly ques- 



336 LIFE OF THE 

tioned the utility of hereditary power or honours, and of 
titles of rank, concluding with a sneer at " ribbons red 
and blue." These opinions might have been honest, 
though perhaps neither very sound nor in the best taste ; 
they were unquestionably imprudent; they were verbatim 
the revolutionary cant of the day, to which sanction was 
given by a man of no ordinary weight and influence in 
the country; and they could not well be considered other- 
wise than as a direct challenge to discussion addressed 
by him to his old associate.* 

As such Mr. Burke evidently considered it, when, on 
the 6th of May, on the same bill, he rose to state his sen- 
timents in reply. But in adverting to the French Consti- 
tution by name, and the unhappy scenes to v\ hich it had 
given rise, he was loudly called to order from the Oppo- 
sition benches; Mr. Fox, who had himself made allu- 
sions as strong by implication and by name, unexpectedly 
assailed him by an ironical defence ; Mr. Barke, noticing 
this circumstance, resumed his argument, and again ex- 
perienced successively seven other formal interruptions 
at short intervals by speeches to order, from different 
members of the same party, others on the opposite side 
maintaining he was perfectly in order, and presenting, 
amid contending shouts of Chair ! chair! Hear ! hear! 
Order ! order ! Go on ! eo on ! a scene which Mr. 
Burke remarked at the moment was only to be paralleled 
among those in a neighbouring country of which he was 
endeavouring to convey some idea to the House. 

At length, an express vote of censure for noticing the 
affairs of France, was moved against him by Lord Shef- 
field, and seconded by Mr. Fox ; Mr. Pitt, on the con- 

* Mr. Sheridan had also about the same time reiterated the 
same opinions. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 337 

trary, who had repeatedly cheered the speech, leaned to 
his views, urged that he was in order, that he was s^rate- 
ful to the right hon. gentleman for the manly struggle 
made against French principles, that he should support 
him whenever the danger approached, and that his zeal 
and eloquence in the cause entitled him to the warmest 
gratitude of all his fellow subjects. Mr. Fox followed 
in a vehement address, alternately rebuking and compli- 
menting Mr. Borke, in a high strain, vindicating his own 
opitiions, questioning the truth and consistency of those 
of his right hon. friend who he must ever esteem his mas- 
ter, but who nevertheless seemed to have forgotten the 
lessons he had taught him, and quoting in support of the 
charge of inconsistency several sarcastic and ludicrous 
remarks, of litde moment at any time, and scarcely worth 
repeating then, but which, as they had been expressed 
fourteen and fifteen years before, seemed to have been 
raked up purposely for the occasion. 

There was an appearance of premeditation and want 
of generosity in this, which hurt Mr. Burke, as he after- 
wards expressed to a friend, more than any public occur- 
rence of his life, and he rose to reply under the influence 
of very painful but very strong feelings. He complained, 
after debating the main question, of being treated with 
harshness and malignity for v\hich the. motive seemed 
unaccountable — of being personally attacked from a quar- 
ter where he least expected it after an intimacy of more 
than twenty-two years, — of his public sentiments and 
writings being garbled, and his confidential communica- 
tions violated, to give colour to an unjust charge ; and 
that, though at his time of life it was obviously indiscreet 
to provoke enemies or to lose friends as he could not 
hope to acquire others, yet if his steady adherence to the 
Uii 



338 LIFE OF THE 

British constitution placed him in such a dilemma, he 
would risk all, and as public duty and public prudence 
taught him, with his last breath exclaim " Fly from the 
French constitution !'' Mr. Fox here whispered, *' there 
is no loss of friendship." " I regret to say, there is," 
was the reply — " I know the value of my line of con- 
duct ; I have, indeed, made a great sacrifice ; I have done 
my duty though 1 have lost my friend, for there is some- 
thins: in the detested French constitution that envenoms 
every thing it touches ;" and, after a variety of comments 
on the question, previous and subsequent to this avowal, 
concluded with an eloquent apostrophe to the tw o great 
heads of their respective parties, steadfastly to guard 
against innovation and new theories \Nhatever might be 
their other SfeitfP' differences, the sacred edifice of the Bri- 
tish constitution. 

Unusually agitated by this public and pointed renun- 
ciation of long intimacy, Mr. Fox found relief in tears. — 
Some moments elapsed before he could find utterance, 
when, besides touching on the bill and on French affairs, 
an eloquent appeal burst forth to his old and revered 
friend — to the remembrance of their past attachment — 
their unalienable friendship — their reciprocal affection, 
as dear and almost as binding as the ties of nature between 
father and son. Seldom had there been heard in the 
House of Commons an appeal so pathetic and so personal. 
Yet even at. this moment when seemingly dissolved in 
tenderness, the pertinacity of the professed, thorough- 
bred disputant prevailed over the feelings of the man ; 
he gave utterance to unusually bitter sarcasms, reiterated 
his objectionable remarks, adding others not of the most 
conciliatory tendency, and of course rather aggravating 
than extenuating the original offence. Rejoinders on 
both sides followed, without subsiding into more arnica- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 339 

ble sentiments, and thenceforward the intimacy of these 
illustrious men ceased. 

Such are, in brief, the facts connected with this me- 
morable dispute, which excited more general interest, 
and produced more important resuhs, than any thing si- 
milar in our political annals. Opposition soon saw in 
it the loss of much of that consequence they had hitherto 
enjoyed as a body in the State, and were thunderstruck 
at the consequences ; uttering the harshest animadver- 
sions upon Mr. Burke, not only at the breaking up of 
the House, but on all occasions afterwards during his 
life, and even since his death, as well as by writers of 
tlie same political partialities, not one of whom but mis- 
represents the circumstances of the quarrel, or attributes 
it on the part of that gentleman, to a preconcerted scheme, 
or spleen at not being permitted to dictate the conduct 
of the body of which he was a member. 

These assertions are now known to be wholly false. 
If design can be attributed to either party, it would seem 
to have rested rather with Mr. Fox and his friends than 
with Mr. Burke, for though they probably did not desire 
an open rupture with him, they went the straight way to 
work to effect it ; for there is not a stronger instance than 
this in Parliamentary history, of what may be termed a 
dead set being made upon a Member to prevent his de- 
livering his sentiments on an extraordinary and question- 
able event, and this upon the trifling pretext of being out 
of order. Admitting him to have been out of order, 
which he was not as the House decided, was it the busi- 
ness of \\\s friends to attack him upon that head ? — of the 
men, with whom he had been so long associated, whose 
career he had often directed, whose batdes he had fought, 
whose credit he had been the first to raise in public es- 
teem — to assail him with vehement disapprobation, per- 



340 LIFE OF THE 

severing interruptions, and votes of censure ? There was 
something; in this of political ingratitude, and obviously 
much indiscretion, for it impressed a general belief in the 
country that the minority, instead of viewing the French 
question as a matter of indifference, or even as one of calm 
deliberation, had at once and so heartily adopted its spirit, 
as to proceed to extremities with one of the heads of their 
body, sooner than hear him treat it with reprobation. 

There are a variety of other reasons which tell strongly 
in favour of Mr. Burke. Fur from broaching it as a pro- 
vocative to quarrel, he had on the contrary, studiously 
avoided it in this and the preceding sessions, until intro- 
duced by the very persons a ho now professed to wish to 
avoid the subject. It was obviously his interest not to 
disagree with those with whom he had been so long con- 
nected, and more especially at this moment, when it was 
believe ], in consequence of words which fell from the 
King on the dispute with Russia, that they were coming 
into power. He had already explicitly declared his in- 
tention to separate from the dearest friends, who should 
give countenance to the revolutionary doctrines then afloat, 
and the breach with Mr. Sheridan proved that this was 
no idle threat. He doubtless felt displeased that his ge- 
neral principles should be, if not misrepresented, at least 
so far misapplied, as to become the means of charging 
him with dereliction of principle. He might be angry 
that this should be done by one who had so long been 
his friend, and who made it his chief boast even at the 
moment that he was his disciple. He could not be well 
pleased that this disciple should condemn his book with- 
out ceremony, as an attack on all free governments. He 
could not be highly conciliated by that friend withdraw- , 
ing from him, as had been the case for the six or seven 
precedinp'. years, much of that public confidence, which he 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 34^1 

had hitherto reposed in him ; for as little similarity existed 
in their private pursuits, they were political friends or they 
were nothing ; and the withholding of confidence on such 
subjects became, in fact, a tacit dissolution of the com- 
pact by which they were united. 

But in addition to these considerations there were, in 
the cause of disunion, circumstances which rendered it 
quite impossible that they could continue on the same 
terms as formerly. The dispute was not about a private 
or trivial, but a great constitutional matter which super- 
seded all minor considerations, — not a hackneyed or spe- 
culative topic on which they might amicably differ and 
pass on to the consideration of others on which they 
agreed, but one in its consequences involving the very 
existence of the state. It was a question wholly new ; 
it was one which agitated almost every man in the king- 
dom ; it was constantly and progressively before the eyes 
of Parliament ; it met the leaders at every turn in debate, 
and in some form or another mingled in every discussion 
of fact or principle. It was in itself full of difficulties, of 
jagged points and sharp angles, against which neither of 
them could rub without feeling some degree of irritation; 
and it was one on which from the first each seemed to 
have staked his whole reputation for political wisdom 
against the other ; Mr. Fox with all the enthusiasm of a 
generous, confiding, and unwary man ; Mr. Burke with 
the penetration of a profound philosopher and the calcu- 
lating sagacity of a practical statesman. In support of 
their opinions both were quite as vehement as the case 
required ; the one pushing on, or being pushed by Oppo- 
sition, to apologise for the misdeeds of the French Re- 
volution 5 the other outstripping the van of the Ministry 
in their bitter reprobation. 

Constant contention such as this promised to be, "hand 



SIS LIFE OF THL 

to hand and foot to foot," as Mr. Burke expressed his de- 
termination to contend, could lead, especially with an old 
associate, only to coldness, and from coldness to aliena- 
tion, from alienation to dislike, the steps are few, and 
quick, and certain. A breach, therefore, sooner or later 
was inevitable. Whedier it ought not to have taken 
place by degrees, and with less of publicity, is merely 
matter of opinion, and at best is of little consequence. 
An open and decisive expression of his mind (to a fault) 
had hitherto characterised Mr. Burke upon all occasions, 
and he probably thouf^ht the same mode of conduct now, 
more honourable in itself, and more calculated to impress 
upon the country a sense of the magnitude of its danger, 
and the sincerity of his conviction that the danger was 
near. 

From the moment indeed that Mr. Fox pronounced 
such decided panegyrics upon the French Constitution, 
and particularly after the 15th of April, when Mr. Burke, 
as related, was prevented from replying by the clamour 
of his own party, a rupture between them appeared at 
hand. The former Ions: afterwards rep:retted the inter- 
ruption the latter had then received, saying that though 
the conflict between them might have been hotter and 
fiercer at the moment, it would probably have left no un- 
pleasant feelings behind. The very next morning a ge- 
neral alarm at the consequences spread through the party. 
Several conciliatory expressions were offered to Mr. 
Burke, and some apologies ; many even who agreed with 
Mr. Fox's opinions did not hesitate to condemn him for 
imprudence in expressing them, though in fact he had 
been urged to do it, and for not having already done so, 
two or three of the number had been tempted to say he 
was deficient in firmness. On the other hand, some of 
Mr. Burke's personal friends and the connexions of the 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 34)3 

Duke of Portland, who thought nearly as he did of the 
proceedings in France, wished him nevertheless to pass 
over the opinions and the challenges of Mr. Fox and Mr. 
Sheridan in silence. This he urged was impossible. He 
had been personally alluded to ; and though treated with- 
out the slightest consideration or respect, this he would 
willingly forget ; but without giving any cause for such a 
proceeding, he had been thrice within a week pointedly 
dared to the discussion, and, standing as he did, pledged 
to the House and to the country upon the subject, which 
no other Member was, it would look like political coward- 
ice to shrink from the contest. He thought Mr. Fox's 
opinions of great weight in the country, and should not 
be permitted to circulate through it uncontradicted. He 
was further impelled by an iniperious sense of public duty, 
which he considered paraimount to all other considera- 
Jtions. These reasons were deemed scarcely sufficient ; 
he further heard that the adherents of Mr. Fox had de- 
termined to interrupt him on the point of order; and that 
gentleman himself, in company with a friend, waited upon 
him to ask that the discussion might be postponed till an- 
other opportunity, which Mr. Rurke pointed out was not 
likely to occur again during the Session. To convince 
Mr. Fox, however, that nothing personal or offensive was 
intended, he stated explicitly what he meant to say, all 
the heads of his arguments, and the limitations he de- 
signed to impose on himself; an instance of candour 
which Mr. Fox returned by relating the favourable ex- 
pressions of himself just alluded to, recently uttered by 
the King. The interview, therefore, though not quite 
satisfactory, excited no hostile feelings ; on the contrary, 
they walked down to the House together, but found that 
Mr. Sheridan had moved to postpone the re-commitment 
of the bill until after the Easter holidays, when, as already 



344 LIFE OF THE 

Stated, the discussion came on the 6th of May. Some- 
thing like premeditated hostility on the part of the mino- 
rity towards Mr. Burke appeared in the abuse heaped 
upon him during the interval by the newspapers in their 
interest. 

That the behaviour of this body to him in the whole 
of the business was resentful and imprudent, if not merit- 
ing a harsher name, has been generally agreed. That 
of Mr. Fox himself is also difficult to explain. In treating 
of a new constitution for a colony which embraced Eng- 
lish, and French, and American interests, it was perfectly 
in order for him to advert to, and contrast their respective 
constitutions with that of "the one proposed; but it seemed 
strange that to another member of at least equal talents 
and of the same party, the same privilege should be de- 
nied because he drew a different conclusion. It was also 
matter for surprise that he should pnjfess such warm 
admiration of the French Rovolution, when confessedly 
not one beneficial result had arisen from it to that coun- 
try, or seemed likely to arise either to it or to any other. 
If this admiration were sincere, what are we to conclude 
of his political wisdom and prudence? if it were not, the 
inference is equally against his political honesty. It is 
no more than justice to him to state, however, that what 
he panegyrised in the gross, he condemned almost uni- 
formly in the detail, and much more in private conversa- 
tion than he could be brought to express in debate ; and 
it is on record, that though on two occasions he applauded 
by name, and in the hearing of the whole House, the 
new French Constitution, as " the most stupendous and 
glorious edifice of liberty v\ hich had been erected on the 
foundation of human integrity in any time or country,'' 
he afterwards, when pushed by Mr. Burke, explained 
awa> his meaning by saying that it applied to the Revo- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. S^bS 

lution, — not to the Constitution. His sentiments seemed, 
in fact, more than once doubtful and wavering; it has 
been ahvays believed that he was urged on by sinister 
influence, and an innate passion for popularity ; and that, 
having irrecoverably lost Mr. Burke by going too far, he 
was obliged to go further in order to retain Mr. Sheridan, 
vi^ho, it is said, exacted an explicit declaration of his opi- 
nions on this head as the price of his continued exertions 
in Parliament. Far be it from the wish of the present writer 
to " lean upon the memory of a great man,'' but bare jus- 
tice to another equally great, and, in some respects, greater, 
requires that truth should be opposed to that multiplied, 
unwearied, and still-continued abuse and misrepresenta- 
tion applied to him in consequence of this schism.* 

An anecdote of this memorable evening related by a 
Member who had adopted Mr. Fox's opinions, evinces, 
contrary to the inference he draws, that Mr. Burke, in- 
stead of displaying the calmness of one who had come 
down to the House prepared for a rupture, felt all the 
irritation which unpremeditated quarrels always produce, 
and the harsh reception he had experienced was so cal- 
culated to excite. 

" The most powerful feelings," says Mr. Curwen,f 
" were manifested on the adjournment of the House, 
Whilst I was waiting for my carriage, Mr. Burke came 
up to me and requested, as the night was wet, I would 
set him down — I could not refuse-*-though I confess I 
felt a reluctance in complying. As soon as the carriage- 
door was shut, he complimented me on my being no 

* For a more detailed account of it, and of the circumstances 
by which it was preceded and accompanied (the only full and 
fair one indeed which exists) see Dodsley's Annual Register for 
1791. 

t Travels in Ireland, vol. ii. 
X X 



34;6 LIFE OP THE 

friend to the revolutionary doctrines of the French, on 
which he spoke with great warmth for a few minutes, 
when he paused to afford me an opportunity of approving 
the view he had taken of those measures in the House. 
Former experience had taught me the consequences of 
differing from his opinions, yet at the moment I could 
not help feeling disinclined to disguise my sentiments. 
Mr. Burke, catching hold of the check-string, furiously 
exclaimed, " You are one of these people ! set me down !'' 
With some difficulty I restrained him ; — we had then 
reached Charing Cross — a silence ensued, which was 
preserved till we reached his house in Gerrard Street, 
when he hurried out of the carriage without speaking, 
and thus our intercourse ended." 

It is to the credit of Mr. Burke, however, that when 
his own personal and political interests were at stake, he 
displayed nothing of this spirit of irritation, as the follow- 
ing anecdote, recorded by the same gentleman, testifies, 
and it is only one among many others : — " On the first 
question of the Regency I differed from Mr. Fox : when 
the division was proceeding, Mr. Burke espied me re- 
maining in my seat ; he turned about, and repeatedly call- 
ed on me, but as I obeyed not the summons, a laugh at 
his expense ensued; though he was evidently displeased, 
I must do him the justice to say he did not resent it.^' 

The House having adjourned till the 11th, Mr. Fox 
again explained away his opinions against aristocracy, 
which Mr. Pitt rather sarcastically said, he was glad to 
hear, for he and every one else had formed a different 
estimate of his meaning, from what had fallen from him 
the evening they had last assembled. Mr. Burke spoke 
at length on the question, and on the situation in which 
he stood with his party. Mr. Fox again assailed him 
with censures and personalities, of which Mr. Burke in 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 347 

a rejoinder took scarcely any notice, and without a sylla- 
ble of personality or recrimination, so that in the whole 
of this affair, the loss of temper would seem to have been 
quite as great in the former as in the latter. 

A few days afterward, a paragraph appeared in the 
Morning Chronicle, stating, that the great body of the 
Whigs of England having decided upon the dispute be- 
tween Mr. Fox and Mr. Burke, in favour of the purer 
doctrines of the former, the latter was in consequence to 
retire from Parliament. This gratuitous sentence of 
ejectment from his seat, though meant as an insult, only 
reiterated an intention he had himself publicly expressed 
some time before, of retiring from the House of Com- 
mons, whenever the impeachment should be concluded. 
But the intimation in the first portion of the paragraph 
being re-echoed, in and out of Parliament, he thought 
an answer necessary, in order to test what Whig princi- 
ples really were, by comparing those avowed by Mr. 
Fox and his friends, with those maintained at the Revo- 
lution, the era of their greatest purity. For this purpose 
appeared in July, " An Appeal from the New to the 
Old Whigs.'' In this pamphlet, which is couched in a 
very calm tone, and written in the third person, he suc- 
cessfully accomplishes his purpose of proving that his 
doctrines were in perfect coincidence with the allowed 
standard of correctness; maintains his consistency; states 
his views at different periods of his political career; and 
assigns the chief motives for writing the work so much 
condemned by the party. " He proposed to prove that 
the present state of things in France is not a transient 
evil, productive, as some have too favourably represented 
it, of a lasting good, but that the present evil is only the 
means of producing future, and (if that were possible) 
worse evils. That it is not an undigested, imperfect. 



348 LIFE OP THE 

and crude scheme of liberty, which may gradually be 
mellowed and ripened into an orderly and social freedom, 
but that it is so fundamentally wrong as to be utterly 
incapable of correcting itself by any length of time, or of 
being formed into any mode of polity of which a Mem- 
ber of the House of Commons could publicly declare his 
approbation. The decisive boldness of this and many 
similar predictions, and their exact fulfilment, will often 
astonish the reader in the writings of this extraordinary 
man. 

It was not one of the least remarkable events of the 
period, that the very next measure which occupied the 
House of Commons was one brought forward by Mr. 
Fox, which, while attacking others for their inconsistency 
seemed calculated to render his own more glaring, as in 
the late quarrel he had expressly alluded to difference of 
opinion with Mr. Burke on this very point — to whom, in 
fact, the present was a strong though unavowed acknow- 
ledgment of the superiority of his views on a great con- 
stitutional question. This measure was the bill for em- 
powering juries to try the questions, both of law and fact, 
in prosecutions for libel. 

It has been already noticed, that a bill for this purpose 
was introduced by Mr. Dowdeswell, in January 1771, in 
consequence of the discussions which arose from the ver- 
dict of the jury in Almon's trial for publishing Junius's 
Letter to the King. This bill, Mr. Burke as the moving 
spirit of his party, not only suggested but drew up with 
his own hand and supported in the House by an able 
speech. Ministry however resisted it, and among others 
Mr. Fox pointedly. Lord Shelburne and his friends 
gave it a hollow support ; Mr. George Grenville and his 
party scouted it, and Mr. Home Tooke attacked it anony- 
mously in the newspapers ; — so much were the judgment 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 



349 



and constitutional knowledge of Mr. Burke even then in 
advance of those of his ablest contemporaries. This un- 
gracious reception probably prevented him from renew- 
ing it. Mr. Fox, at the present moment, adopted it as 
his own ; and though it is an understood rule for one 
Member of Parliament, before he seizes upon the propo- 
sition of another, to communicate with him, Mr. ¥ox did 
not think this necessary, although no breach had then 
(February) taken place between them : he said nothing 
to Mr. Burke, made no apology, acknowledged no obli- 
gation, but adopted the spirit, and as nearly as possible, 
the words of his bill of 1771.* It is difficult to suppose 



* For the information of the 
are subjoined. 

Jury Bill of 1771. 

I. Whereas doubts and con- 
troversies have arisen concern- 
ing the rights of jurors to try the 
whole matter charged in indict- 
ments, and informations for se- 
ditious and other libels ; for set- 
tling and clearing the same in 
time to come, be it enacted, &c. 
that from and after, &c., the 
jurors who shall be duly empan- 
nelled and sworn to try the 
issue between the King and the 
defendant, upon any indictment 
or information for a seditious 
libel, or a libel under any other 
denomination or description, 
shall, to all intents and pur- 
poses, be held and reputed, in 
law and in right, competent to 
try every part of the matter laid 
or charged in the said indict- 
ment or information, compre- 
hending the criminal intention 
of the defendant, and evil ten- 
dency of the libel charged, as 



reader, the chief heads of each 

Jury Bill of 1791. 
I. Whereas doubts have arisen 
whether on the trial of an in- 
dictment or information for the 
making or publishing any iibel, 
where an issue or issues are 
joined between the King and 
the defendant or defendants, on 
the plea of not guilty, pleaded, 
it be competent to the jury im- 
pannelled to try the same, to 
give their verdict upon the whole 
matter in issue; be it therefore 
declared and enacted, &c. &c., 
that on every such trial, the jury 
sworn to try the issue may give 
a general verdict of guilty or 
not guilty upon the whole mat- 
ter put in issue upon such in- 
dictment or information, and 
shall not be required or directed 
by the Court or Judge before 
whom such indictment or infor- 
mation shall be tried, to find the 
defendant or defendants guilty, 
merely on the proof of the pub- 



350 



LIFE OF THE 



he did not know who the real author was, though this 
may be ; but the bill itself, from having opposed h, he 



well as the mere fact of the 
publication thereof ; and the ap- 
plication by inuendo of blanks, 
initial letters, pictures,and other 
devices, any law or usage to the 
contrary notwithstanding. 

II. Provided that nothing in 
the act be construed to prevent 
or restrain the judges or justices 
before whom such issues shall 
be tried, from instructing the 
jurors concerning the law upon 
the matter so in issue, as fully 
as may be done in other misde- 
meanors, where the jurors do, 
and ought to try the whole mat- 
ter; nor to restrain the jurors 
from finding the matter special, 
if the law to them shall seem 
diflBcult and doubtful. 

III. Provided also, that no- 
thing herein contained shall be 
construed to take from the de- 
fendant, after verdict found, the 
right of laying such evidence 
before the Court in which such 
verdict was found, as may tend 
to mitigation or extenuation of 
his said offence, as has been 
usually practised before this act. 



lication by such defendant or 
defendants, if the paper charged 
to be a libel, and of the sense 
ascribed to the same on such 
indictment or information. 

II. Provided always, that on 
every such trial the court or 
judge before whom such indict- 
ment or information shall be 
tried, shall, according to their, 
or his discretion, give their or 
his opinion of directions to the 
jury on the matter in issue be- 
tween the King and the defen- 
dant or defendants, in like man- 
ner as in other criminal cases. 



III. Provided also, that no- 
thing herein contained shall ex- 
tend, or be construed to extend, 
to prevent the jury from finding 
a special verdict in their dis- 
cretion as in other criminal 
cases. 



IV. Provided also, that in 
case the jury shall find the de-> 
fendant or defendants guilty, it 
shall and may be lawful for the 
said defendant or defendants to 
move in arrest of judgment on 
such ground and in such man- 
ner as by law he or they might 
have done before the passing of 
this act, any thing herein con- 
tained to the contrary notwith- 
standing. 



RIGHT HON, EDMUND BURKE. 351 

could not well have forgotten. Whatever merit, there- 
fore, be in this celebrated measure, and there is unques- 
tionably much, the larger proportion of it unquestionably 
belongs to Mr. Burke. 

His labours at the commencement of this troubled ses- 
sion had been equally arduous, though less personally 
agitating than those which occurred towards its close. 
An important constitutional question was mooted, whe- 
ther the impeachment had not abated by the dissolution 
of Parliament in 1790 ? He maintained, with great vi- 
gour and ability, that it did not ; Mr. Fox, Mr. Pitt, and 
the chief talent of both Houses supporting the same views. 
Nearly all the lawyers, however, were of an opposite opi- 
nion. This circumstance drew from him many sarcas- 
tic remarks, especially after one of them had remarked 
that they were not at home in that House, when Mr. 
Burke said, he believed they were not ; " they were 
birds of a different feather, and only perched in that House 
on their flight to another — only resting their tender pinions 
there for a while, yet even fluttering to be gone to the region 
of coronets ; like the Hibernian in the ship, they cared not 
how soon she foundered, because they were only passen- 
gers ; their best bower anchor was always cast in the 
House of Lords." In another sentence he expressed a 
wish " to see the country governed by law, but not by 
lawyers." On the 14th of February, when Mr. Erskine, 
who had already sustained many of his biting sarcasms, 
complained of the length of the trial, Mr. Burke, after an 
able defence of the managers upon whom certainly no 
blame rested in the opinions both of Ministry and Oppo- 
sition, asked " whether the learned gentleman remem- 
bered, that if the trial had continued three years, the op- 
pressions had continued for twenty years ? whether, after 
all, there. were hour-glasses for measuring the grievances 



85S LIFE OF THE 

of mankind ? or whether those whose ideas never tra- 
velled beyond a nisi prius cause, were better calculated 
to ascertain what ought to be the length of an impeach- 
ment, than a rabbit who breeds six times in a year had to 
judge of the time proper for the gestation of an elephant?" 
Mr! Fox was equally severe in his strictures upon the 
legal profession. 

The other chief public measures in which Mr. Burke 
took part were, by an eloquent speech, seconded by Mr. 
Fox and Mr. Pitt, in support of Mr. Mitford's bill, grant- 
ing indulgence to protesting Roman Catholic dissenters, 
or those who denied the Pope's supremacy in temporal 
matters ; on the slave trade ; and on the Russian arma- 
ment. 

During the early part of the summer he paid a visit to 
Margate, for the benefit of the warm salt-water baths for 
Mrs. Burke, when an anecdote is related indicative of his 
strict sense of propriety in religious duties. At church, 
one day, he was unexpectedly saluted with a political ser- 
mon, which, though complimentary to his own views of 
public affairs, was so little suited in his opinion to the 
place, that he displayed unequivocal symptoms of disap- 
probation by rising frequently, taking his hat as if to de- 
part, and re-seating himself with evident chagrin. "Sure- 
ly," said he, on another occasion, " the church is a place 
where one day's truce may be allowed to the dissensions 
and animosities of mankind." 

Toward the end of August Sir Joshua Reynolds pub- 
lished a print of him, engraved by Benedetti, from his 
best portrait painted in 1775 ; underneath it the President 
caused to be engraved the following lines from the fifth 
book of Paradise Lost— the conduct of the good Abdiel ; 
a strong allusion, it will be perceived, to the recent quar- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 353 

rel, and expressinaj his sense of the proceedings of Oppo- 
sition as uell as of iheir treatment of his friend :•— 

'' So spake the fervent Angel, but his zeal 
None seconded, as out of season judged. 

Or singular and rash 

. unmoved. 

Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified ; 

His loyalty he kept, his love, his zeal ; 

Nor number nor example with him wrought 

To swerve from truth, or change his constant mind 

Though single. From amid'st them forth he pass'd. 

Long way through hostile scorn, which he sustain'd 

Superior, nor of violence fear'd aught ; 

And with retorted scorn his back he turn'd 

On those proud towers to swift destruction doom'd." 

Mr. Burke, whose humility was as distinguished as 
any other of his qualities, and who did not see the plate 
until a considerable number of impressions had been 
worked off, urged the strongest remonstrances at>;ainst 
the application of such lines to him ; and insisted, almost 
as the condition of continued friendship, that they should 
be obliterated, or the plate destroyed, as well as all the 
impressions which had not been distributed. Sir Joshua 
complied with great reluctance, and very few are now to 
be found. So U\r did Mr. Burke carry this feeling, that 
whenever he met with one of the prints in the house of 
a friend, he used to beg it as a particular favour, in ex- 
change for one without the lines, and it was no sooner 
obtained than destroyed. 

At this period also it may be remarked, that the war 
of caricatures which had been carried on against him for 
many years with some wit and address, as uell as against 
Mr. Fox and others of the Opposition, now turned in 
some degree in his favour. The Jesuit's dress, by which 
and by his spectacles he had hitherto been represented 
by them, was omitted, and he was afterwards commonly 
Y y 



354* LIFE OF THE 

drawn as confounding or exposing the apoloj^ists of the 
Revolution. A collection of these sketches, made by an 
admirer of Mr. Burke and an acquaintance of the writer, 
affords some amusing scenes at this period of time ; the 
likeness is as faithful as caricature pretends to be, and 
some of his oratorical attitudes are very correctly caught. 



CHAPTER XII. 

Writings connected with French Affairs, and the Catholic 
Claims, — Sir Joshua Beynolds. — .N'egro Code. — Let- 
ter on the death of Mr. Shackleton. — IFar. — Conduct 
of the Minority, and policy of the Allies. — Letter to 
Mr. Murphy. — Preface to Brissofs Address. 

In December, 1791, Mr. Burke keeping Iiis eye stea- 
dily fixed on the progress of the Revolution, as the great 
centre of interest to a statesman, drew up a paper, 
** Thoughts on French Affairs," which was submitted to 
the private consideration of Ministry, and is marked by 
the same spirit of fore-knowledge as his other v\ritings 
on the subject. He arrives at three coi^clusions of uhich 
subsequent experience has taught us the truth — that no 
counter-revolution in France was to be expected from in- 
ternal causes only ; that the longer the system existed 
it would become stronger both within and without ; and 
that while it did exist, it would be the interest of the 
rulers there to disturb and distract all other governments. 

The communication to him alluded to from the Em- 
press of Russia, ihrough Count de Woronzow, and Mr. 
Fawkener the Brit sh minister produced in return a dig- 
nified and complimentary letter from Mr. Burke, dated 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 355 

from Beaconsfield, November the 1st, insinuatinjr forci- 
bly the necesbity for her, adopting, by active exertion as 
well as declaration, the cause of all Sovereigns, all 
churches, all nobility and all society ; that the debt due 
by her predecessors to Europe for civilising a vast em- 
pire, should now be repaid by that empire to rescue Eu- 
rope from the new barbarism. An air of doubt, how- 
ever, pervades this letter, as if he had some suspicion of 
her zeal ; and, if so, the result proved he did not mistake 
her character, as she did nothing, and probably never 
meant do any thing, against the revolutionary faction. 
Catherine, who possessed many of the qualities of a great 
Monarch, was nevertheless the most selfish of politi- 
cians ; to crime and selfishness, in fact, she owed her 
crown ; and feeling that no danger to it existed among 
her own subjects, where the first elements of freedom 
\vere unknown, she had not generosity enough to assist 
others in distress, where there appeared no prospect of 
immediate profit from the exertion. The purpose of her 
communication to Mr. Burke was probably to extract 
from him a letter of admiration and praise, being always 
ambitious of the notice of the great literary names of Flu- 
rope ; but in returning the courtesy due to a Sovereign 
and a female, it may be questioned whether he did not 
inflict some violence on his inclination. Of her private 
character there could be put one opinionr To the gene- 
ral politics of her court, as evinced toward Turkey and 
Poland, he was no greater friend, particularly in the busi- 
ness of the partitions of the latter, of u hich he avowed 
that honest detestation which every man, not a profligate 
politician, or a robber by profession, must ever entertain. 
The grivances of the Irish Catholics exciting increased 
disc ission in that country, he was solicited to state and 
support their claims to Ministry, for relaxation of the Pe- 



356 LIFE OF THE 

nal Laws. His son also was appointed their agent, and 
early in January, 1792, proceeded to Ireland to influence 
their proceedings by moderate counsels so as to give 
effect to his father's exertions here. He carried with 
him, from his fond parent, the following letter to Lord 
Charlemont ; — 

" Beaconsfield, Dec. 29, 1791. 
" My dear Lord, 
" I have seldom been more vexed than when I found 
that a visit of mere formality had deprived me of the sub- 
stantial satisfaction which Mrs. Burke and my brother 
had in seeing you, as well as they had ever remembered 
you. Many things, at that time, had contributed to make 
that loss very great to me. Your Lordship is very good 
in lamenting the difference which politics had made be- 
tween Mr. Fox and me. Your condolence vvas truly 
kind ; for my loss has been truly great in the cessation 
of the partiality of the man of his wonderful abilities and 
amiable dispositions. Your Lordship is a little angry at 
politics that can dissolve friendships. If it should please 
Gfod to lend me a little longer life, they will not, I hope, 
cause me to lose the few friends I have left; for I have left 
all politics, 1 ihink, for ever.* Every thing that remains 
of my relation to the public, will be only in my good 
wishes, which are warm and sincere, that this constitution 
should be thoroughly understood, for then I am sure it 
will be sincerely loved ; that its benefits may be widely 
extended, and lastingly continued ; and that no man may 

* This idea was frequently expressed bj Mr. Burke, and for 
the moment he might possibly intend it; but, in rpality, his mind 
was too active to lie dormant whenever an important question 
presented for exercising his capacious understanding, and great 
political knowledge. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. S^7 

bave an excuse to wish it to have another fortune than I 
pray it may long flourish in. I am sure that your coun- 
try, in whose prosperity I inckide the most valuable inter- 
est'of this, will have reason to look back on what you have 
done for it with gratitude, and will have reason to think 
the continuance of your health for her further service, 
amongst the greatest advantages she is likely to expect. 

" Here is my son, who will deliver this to you. He 
will be indemnified for what I have lost. I think I may 
speak for this my other and better self, that he loves you 
almost as much as I do." 

Shortly before this, Mr. Burke had commenced writ- 
ing, or rather dictating, as he did most of his longer 
letters and works, his celebrated " Letter to Sir Hercules 
Langrishe, Bart. M. P." as auxiliary to his son's mission 
in favour of the Catholic claims ; it bears date January 
5d, 1792, enforces the policy of removing the chief re- 
strictions to which they were subject, particularly that 
which denied them the elective franchise, and appeals to 
the recollection of his friend whether his opinions upon 
the question were not as strong and as fully matured 
thirty two years before (1760) as at that moment. A bill 
was speedily introduced into the Irish Parliament by 
which the profession of the law, before interdicted to Ca- 
tholics, was opened to them ; intermarriages with Pro- 
testants legalised ; restraints upon education, and obstruc- 
tion to arts and manufactures in limiting the number of 
apprentices to masters of that persuasion, removed ; and 
next year they gained the elective franchise. 

Oil the 23d of February died one of his most valued 
friends. Sir Joshua Reynolds, bequeathing him for the 
trouble of an executorship, the sum of 2000/. and also 
cancelling a bond for the same amount. This proof of 



358 LIFE OF THB 

regard was a legacy paid to thirty five years of close 
and uninterrupted intimacy, in which most of their friend- 
ships, many of their sentiments and feelings, were the 
same. A rumour has pretty generally prevailed that the 
President was indebted to the pen of Mr. B^irke for the 
substance of his celebrated lectures on Painting ; but of 
this there is no proof, not even that he corrected them, 
though this is not improbable. There is, however, little 
doubt that the artist profited much by the society, and 
by those unpremeditated yet often brilliant effusions of an 
original and vigorous mind frequently thrown out by the 
orator upon art as well as upon general subjects, traces of 
which have been found in the lectures by some of those 
staunch literary pointers whom nothing in the shape of co- 
incidence escapes, though they do not detract from the 
painter's merit. " What the illustrious Scipio was to Lce- 
lius," savs Mr. Malone, " the all knowing and all accom- 
plished Burke was to Reynolds." " It is impossible to 
describe to you," w rites Barry from Rome, " what an ad- 
vantage I had in the acquaintance of Mr. Burke ; it was 
a preparative, and facilitated my relish for the beautiful 
things of the artb here : and I will affirm from experience, 
tliat one gentleman of a literary turn and delicate feelings 
for the ideal, poetical, and expressive parts of the art, is 
likely to be of the greatest service to a young artist." 
Mr. Burke first suggested to Sir Joshua the well known 
picture of Ugolino ; he submitted to him in manuscript 
the Reflections on the Revolution in France, to which the 
painter gave the highest praise ; he directed the impos- 
ing ceremonial of his friend's funeral ; but when at the 
conclusion of the day he attempted to return thanks, in 
the name of the family, to the Members of the Royal 
Academy for the attention shown to the remains of their 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 359 

late President, his feelings found vent in tears, but, unable 
to utter a word, he gave up the attempt after several ef- 
forts.* 

A character of the deceased, drawn up for the news- 
papers a few hours after his death, was immediately at- 
tributed to Mr. Burke, and has been universally admired 
for that felicity of thought and elegance of diction rarely 
equalled by our finest writers, and which, on a topic 
where he felt any interest, seems ever to have guided his 
pen. — «' It is," says the learned Seward, *' the eulogium 
of Parrhasius pronounced by Pericles — it is the eulogium 
of the greatest painter by the most consummate orator of 
his time." Even a virulent enemy terms it *' as fine a 
portrait as Reynolds ever painted." 

" His illness was long, but borne with a mild and cheer- 
ful fortitude, without the least mixture of any thing irrita- 
ble or querulous, agreeably to the placid and even tenour 
of his whole life. He had, from the beginning of his ma- 
lady, a distinct view of his dissolution ; and he contemplat- 
ed it with that entire composure which nothing but the 
innocence, integrity, and usefulness of his life, and an 
unaffected submission to the will of Providence, could 
bestow. In this situation he had every consolation from 
family tenderness, which his own kindness to his family 
had indeed well deserved. 

* He became guardian to Miss Palmer, Sir Joshua's niece and 
heiress, who became Marchioness of Thomond. When the mar- 
riage articles were brought lo be signed, Mr. Burke addressed 
her in an elegant and impressive speech applicable to her intend- 
ed change of condition, which, however, agitated her so much as 
to render her utterly incapable of holding the pen. Every effort 
was made to calm her, but in vain ; all his soothing powers were 
exerted endearingly and perseveringly without effect ; and the 
party separated for the time unable to accomplish the purpose of 
their meeting. 



860 LIFE OF THE 

" Sir Joshua Reynolds was, on very nnany accounts^ 
one of the most memorable men of his time. He was the 
first Ensjlibhman who added the praise of the elegant arts 
to the other glories of his country. In taste, in grace, in 
facility, in happy invention, and in the richness and har- 
mony of colouring, he was equal to the great masters in 
the renov\ned ages. In portrait he went beyond them ; 
for he communicated to that department of the art in 
which English artists are the most engaged, a variety, a 
fancy, and a dignity derived from the higher branches, 
which even those who professed them in a superior man- 
ner did not always preserve when they delineated indivi- 
dual nature. His portraits remind the spectator of the 
invention of history and of the amenity of landscape. In 
painting portraits he appears not to be raised upon that 
platform, but to descend to it from a higher sphere. His 
paintings illustrate his lessons, and his lessons seem to 
have been derived from his paintings. He possessed the 
theory as perfectly as the practice of his art. To be such 
a painter, he v\as a profound and penetrating philosopher. 

" In full happiness of foreign and domestic fame, ad- 
mired by the expert in art and by the learned in science, 
courted by the great, caressed by sovereign powers, and 
celebrated by distinguished poets, his native humility, 
modesty, and candour never forsook him, even on surprise 
or provocation ; nor was the least degree of arrogance or 
assumption visible to the most scrutinising eye in any 
part of his conduct or discourse. 

"His talents of every kind — powerful from nature, and 
not meanly cultivated by letters — his social virtues in all 
the relations and in all the habitudes of life, rendered him 
the centre of a very great and unparalleled variety of agree- 
able societies, which will be dissipated by his death. He 
had too much merit not to provoke some jealousy, too 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 36l 

much innocence to provoke any enmity. The loss of no 
man of his time a 
unmixed sorrow. 



man of his time can be felt u ith more sincere, general, and 



" Hail ! and farewell !" 

The legacy bequeathed by Sir Joshua was not a soli- 
tary instance of the rei^ard entertained for Mr. Burke by 
his friends. Dr. Brocklesby accidentally hearing he was 
pressed by some te.nporary dirtic ilt , delicately observed 
that as a slight token of remembrance he had put down 
his name in his will for 1000/. but on considering there 
would be more pleas .re in becoming his own executor, 
he had resolved to anticipate time and piay the money im- 
mediately, and it was paid accordingly. 

The question of the Slave trade being discussed in 
April, Mr. Burke forwarded to Mr. Dundas a " Sketch 
of a Negro Code,'' uhich he had drawn up in 1780, when, 
as he observes, the abolition, however much to be de- 
sired, seeming altogether chimerical, he aimed at carry- 
ing into effect the next best remedies — that of subjecting 
the trade to the strictest possible regulations, and amelior- 
ating the condition of the slaves in the islands. On this pro- 
ject much inquiry, consideration, and labour were expend- 
ed; it is not a mere draught of a common act of Parliament, 
but an extensive system, coherent in its parts and bear- 
ings, and does honour to the benignant spirit of its author, 
ever active in the service of suffering humanity. 

In Parliament, his chief exertions were in opposing a 
notice of motion for Parliamentary Reform by Mr. Grey, 
and the Unitarian petition introduced by Mr. F jx on the 
11th of May ; an outline of the clever speech on the latter 
occasion, written after its delivery, has a place in his 
V\ orks. On the question of the proclamation against se- 
ditious doctrines and writings, an obvious schism appear- 

Z z 



36^ LIFE UF THE 

ed among Opposition ; the old Whigs, or Duke of Port- 
land's friends, as distinguished from the 7iew, or the fol- 
lowers of Mr. Fox, finding it difficult to adhere to the lat- 
ter much longer, as well from the dangers of the country 
increasing, as from the predictions of their former leader, 
Mr. Burke, becoming day after day verified. In the 
mean time, Mr. Pitt, from the unexpected opposition of 
Lord Thurlow in the House of Lords, being obliged to 
procure his dismissal from the Chancellorship, intimated 
a desire for a junction with the Portland party, and as, in 
such a moment of alarm, it was desirable to bring all 
the talents of the country into its service, he did not ob- 
ject to include Mr. Fox among the number. The latter 
arrangement was particularly pressed upon the Minister 
by Mr. Burke, who also pressed the policy of acceding 
to it upon Mr. Fox through private channels ; and the 
fact is honourable to his candour and patriotism, and even 
friendship; yet as another specimen of party malevolence, 
he was frequently accused at the same moment of being 
that gentleman's personal enemy. Mr. Fox, however, re- 
fused to accede to the proposition unless Mr. Pitt re- 
signed the head of the Treasury — a piece of humility not 
to be expected from him or perhaps from any man situ- 
ated as he was ; the negociation consequently for the pre- 
sent proved fruitless j but the Prince of Wales came for- 
ward with a manly avowal in favour of the conduct oi 
Ministers. 

All the threatening symptoms of the spring increased 
during the summer of 1792, by the unprecedented circu- 
lation of incendiary pamphlets, by the communication of 
the clubs of London with those of Paris, which induced 
several Members of Opposition to secede from such ques- 
tionable meetings, by the formation of affiliated societies 
through many of the country towns and even villages, 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 363 

openly advocating Republicanism. In Paris, anarchy be- 
came open massacre, followed by the dethronement of 
the King, the institution of a republic, and encouraged by 
the repulse of the Duke of Brunswick, with an invitation 
to other countries to pursue the example. In November, 
Mr. Burke while at Bath drew up another State Paper, 
" Heads for Consideration on the Present State of Af- 
fairs,'' distinguished by the same profound sagacity as 
the others, and sent copies of it to the King, to the Mi- 
nisters, and to the chief members of the Portland party, 
as he had done with the " Thoughts" of the preceding 
year. Its aim is to point out that war is inevitable ; that 
nothing can be done by Austria and Prussia, or any other 
continental power effectually against France ; " that there 
never was, nor is, nor ever will be, nor ever can be," any 
decided impression made upon her, of which England is 
not the directing power, the soul of the confederacy ; — 
with what truth time has shown. 

His labours connected with the great convulsion in that 
country were almost beyond belief, in thinking, in wri- 
ting, in debating, in corresponding upon it with many of 
the chief persons in Britain and in Europe, in imparting 
information, and in diligence in procuring it. For this 
purpose principally, he had dispatched his son the prece- 
ding year, with the knowledge of government, to the 
French Princes and others assembled at Ct^hlentz, who 
on his return brought with him to England the famous 
M. Cazales, a man of superior talents, distinguished in 
the National Assembly as the chief opponent of Mira- 
beau, but who, like most other persons of common sense 
and common honesty, found it necessary soon after to 
consult his safety in emigration ; and who was further re- 
markable forbearing so great a resemblance to Mr. Fox, 
as to have been mistaken for him two or three times in the 



364} LIFK OF THE 

Streets of London. By means of his son, on this trip, Mr. 
Burke also opened a communication with some of the 
Ministers of the Emperor of Austria and the King of 
Prussia, particularly the former, sugj^esting hints for quiet- 
ing the disorders of the Netherlands and of Hungary, and 
alludingtotho^eof France. Some further comniunications 
made to Lord Grenville on the latter fertile theme have 
never been made public. 

His further views are stated in the follovvinej extract of 
a letter to his son ia Dublin, — " I am now in town trying to 
take my little part in measi res which may quiet the un- 
happy divisions of the country, and enable us to make 
head against the common enemy (^f the human race. To 
do any good, there ought to be a general cessation, as 
much as may be, of all public and ali private animosities; 

and first the R 1 f y ought, in my firm opinion, in 

this question of the very existence of monarchy, as a ba- 
sis, to be reconciled within itself; the next is, that the 
0[)position should be reconciled to the Ministry ; and 
that, for that purpose, its dissonant parts shoijld be brought 
to some agreement if possible — if not, that the well in- 
tentioned should be separated from the contagion and dis- 
traction attendant upon an apparent connexion with those 
who, under the false colour of a common party, are as 
completely separated in views and in opinions as the most 
adverse and factious ever have been or can be : the last 
part of the pLin is, that there siiould be a reconciliation 
between the Catholics and Protestants of Ireland." — In 
all these plans he succeeded, but in the last the least : 
either because government could not (on account of the 
scruples of the King, or perhaps the violent antipathies of 
the ruling party in Ireland,) or would not, pursue the plan 
he had chalked out ; Mr. Pitt possibly felt some jealousy 
of appearing to be too much guided by his advice, yet 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 365 

had it been fully followed up by sanctioning the subse- 
quent arrangements of Earl Fitzvvilliam, there is a gene- 
ral impression among the best informed men of that coun- 
try that the rebellion would not have taken place. 

In the House of Commons he came into collision with 
the body that adhered to Mr. Fox on the first day of the 
session, December 13th, and the two following days in 
opposing the amendment to the Address moved by that 
gentleman, and also his motion for sending an Fjvnbassa- 
dor to Paris to treat with the Republic, which met with 
general reprobation. 

Mr. Fox's sentiments, in fact, gave so much offence 
to some of his warmest friends, that some simply ex- 
pressed their astonishment, others more openly their dis- 
like ; and Lord Sheffield, who it will be remembered ivas 
the immediate cause of his rupture with Mr. B irke, went 
so far as to say that he was ashamed of having ever en- 
tertained any enthusiasm for the right honourable mover 
of such a measure. On the second reading of the Alien 
Bill, the 28th of the same month, Mr. Burke, in mention- 
ing that an order for making 3000 daggers had arrived 
some time before at Birmingham, a few of which had 
been actually delivered, drew one from under his coat, 
and threw it indignantly on the floor; " /Vzw," said he, 
*' is uhat you are to gain by an alliance with France. 
Wherever their principles are introduced, their practice 
must also follow." The speech he made on this occa- 
sion was excellent in itself, and produced a great effect 
in the Hoijse; the action which accompanied it was not 
perhaps in s»ich good taste, though well calculated, as he 
meant it should, to draw universal notice and rouse the 
most indifferent to a sense of their dant^er, by a tangible 
illustration of the results to be expected from tolerating 
any intercourse with the desperiite faction which scourged 



366 LIFE OF THE 

the people of France. Among those who thought more 
favourably of that fI\ctlon this proceeding excited extreme 
anger, nay execration, as a vile oratorical flourish, while 
in fact it u as meant as a verification of his statement; 
but the vehemence of the abuse it provoked, only proved 
the effect it was believed likely to produce in the coun- 
try. On the Traitorous Correspondence Bill, and on 
measures connected with the war, he delivered four or 
five excellent speeches, one of which occasioned an al- 
tercation with Mr. Fox. He drew up before the meet- 
ing of Parliament an appeal to British charity in favour 
of the numerous and destitute body of the French clergy 
then in London. 

Shortly before this period, he had lost his early and 
constant friend Mr. Shackleton, whose occasional visits 
and letters kept alive that ardour of affection wdth which 
the associates of our youth are regarded in every subse- 
quent period of life, and most, perhaps, when from in- 
creasing age we are most incapable of relishing new ones. 
To the letter of Mrs. Leadbeater, announcing the event, 
he wrote the following reply, dated September 8th, 1792: 

"My DEAR Madam, 
" After some tears on the truly melancholy event of 
which your letter gives me the first account, I sit down 
to thank you for your very kind attention to me in a sea- 
son of so much and so just sorrow to yourself. Certainly 
my loss is not so great as yours, \vho constantly enjoyed 
the advantage and satisfaction of the society of such a 
companion, such a friend, such an instructor, and such 
an example: yet I am penetrated with a very sincere 
affliction; for my loss is great too. I am declining or 
rather declined in life, and the. loss of friends, at no time 
very reparable, is impossible to be repaired at all in this 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 36^ 

advanced period. His annual visit had been for some 
years a source of satisfaction that I cannot easily express. 
He had kept up the fervour of youthful affections ; and 
his vivacity and cheerfulness, which made his early days 
so pleasant, continued the same to the last: the strictness 
of his virtue and piety had nothing in it of morose or 
austere; and surely no life was betterj and (it is a comfort 
for us to add) more happily spent than his. I knew him 
from the boyish days in which we bei^an to love each 
other. 

" His talents were great, strong, and various : there 
was no art or science to which they were not sufficient 
in the contemplative life ; nor any employment that they 
would not more than adequately fill in the active. Though 
his talents were not without that ambition which gene- 
rally accompanies great natural endowments, it was kept 
under by great wisdom and temperance of mind; and 
though it was his opinion that the exercise of virtue was 
more easy, its nature more pure, and its means more 
certain in the walk he chose, yet in that the activity and 
energy which formed the character of his mind were very 
visible. Apparently in a private path of life his spirit 
was public. You know how tender a father he was to 
children worthy of him by their genius and their virtue ; 
* * * yet he extended himself more widely; and devoted 
a great part of his time to that society, of no mean extent, 
of which the order of the Divine Providence had made 
him a member. With a heart far from excluding others, 
he was entirely devoted to the benefit of that society, and 
had a zeal very uncommon for every thing which regard- 
ed its welfare and reputation; and when he retired, which 
he did wisely arid in time, from the worthy occupation 
which he filled in a superior manner, his time and thoughts 
were given to that object. He sanctified his family be 



368 LTFE OP THE 

nevolence, his benevolence to liis society, and to bis 
friends, and to mankind, with reference in all things to 
that Supreme Being, without which the best dispositions 
and the best teaching will make virtue, if it can be at all 
attained, uncertain, poor, hard, dry, cold, and comfordess. 
" Indeed we have had a loss. 1 conscle myself under 
it by going over the virtues of my old friend, of which I 
believe I am one of the earliest witnesses, and the most 
warm admirers and lovers. Believe me this whole family 
who have adopted my interest in my excellent departed 
friend, are deeply touched with our common loss, and 
sympathize with you mo'st sincerely. My son is just 
arrived in Dublin. My wife is not very well, and is pre- 
paring for a journey to Bath, which I trust will re-establish 
her. My brother, who will hear this news w ith a sorrow 
equal to mine, is now at Cheltenham for the benefit of 
the waters. — Compose yourself, my dear Madam, you 
have your work to do. * * * Pray remember me to the 
gentleman 1 have not the honc^ur of knowing, but whose 
happiness you make. Thank for me my northy friend 
Abraham for his good-natured letter, and beg him to 
consider it as answered in this. I hope \ou will assure 
my dear friend Mrs. Shackleton, the worthy wife of my 
late invaluable friend, that we sympathize coidiall} in all 
she feels; and join our entreaties to yours that she will 
preserve to you as much as possible of the friend and 
parent you have lost.'' 

The war which he had so long predicted as inevitable 
was now at hand, precipitated perhaps by the opening of 
the Scheldt, by the promise of assistance from the Na- 
tional Convention to all people who wished to thro a (JfF 
the tyranny of Kings, and particularly by the execution 
of Louis XVI. Mr. Burke, however, was not pleased 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 369 

with the assicijnment of the former motive, deeming it 
weak in comparison with some others. " A war for the 
Scheldt !" exclaisned he in his forcible phraseology as 
soon as it was mentioned ; *' A war for a chamb — r 
p — t !" War at this (voment was in fact no longer matter 
of choice, being formally declared against England by the 
Republic on the 1st of Februar). The propriety and the 
necessity of it on our part, were already acknowledged by 
the old Whigs, and thus were separated from Mr. Fox 
who resisted the w ar, by a distinct line of political feeling, 
leaving him not only much reduce<l in numbers in Parlia- 
ment, but greatly imj)aired in moral strength and in poli- 
tical credit. 

It must always be matter of surprise to numbers, and 
of regret to many, hoiv that eminent man could so perse- 
veringly resist and condemn a measure which was in it- 
self unavoidable, and which was supporte 1 by the gene- 
ral, and as it proved in the result just, judgment of the 
country, or how he could have acted otherwise than Mr. 
Piti did act, had he himself been Minister. It may be 
possible, ho\vever, that had Mr. Pitt led the Opposition, 
the spirit so inherent in pol tical rivalry would have in- 
duced him to do just as Mr. Fox did; or in other words, 
that with the difference of men, the results to the co mtry 
would have been precisely similar. In saying this no 
reflection is for a moment insinuated against the strict 
integrity of principle of either; but we are all the creatures 
of circumstances. It is therefore utterly impossible for 
the most conscientious statesman that ever lived, to view 
with the same degree of favour or through the same 
medium, measures originated by himself, or by those to 
whom he is politically opposed; to estimate public affairs 
by the same standard whether he be in, or whether out 
of pow er. Had Mr. Fox been in office at this time, his 
3 A 



370 LIFE OF THK 

views, his feelings, his prejudices, his judgment, vvouM 
have differed, along with the difference of his public re- 
lations to the government; his anxieties would have been 
greater, and his apprehensions more easily excited ; his 
penetration more sharp and sensitive by the very weight 
of his charge ; he could scarcely have seen or heard with 
the same eyes and ears; and all this without any sacrifice 
of principle. The workings of the mind arising from 
heavy responsibility, nearer views, better information, 
and more direct contact with the machinery of the state, 
and of the real rather than the ostensible grounds of its 
proceedings, are so imperceptible very often in their 
operation, that a statesman, is often wound gradually 
round from his former opinions almost without being 
aware of the change, and is sometimes surprised, and 
sometimes indignant, when told he is inconsistent. This 
allowance ought to be made for all public men, though 
it is one uhich is generally denied them. 

Mr. Pitt, it is perfectly certain, no more than Mr. Fox, 
had no great appetite for war. His glories had been hi- 
therto peculiarly of the peaceful cast, his popularity was 
acquired in a state of prosperity and tranquillity. War 
might destroy, but was not likely to add to them. His 
interest therefore was to avoid hostilities ; and so well did 
he know this and wish it, that he could not be brought to 
believe what Mr. Burke had repeatedly told him almost 
two years before, that war must ultimately ensue. Far 
from precipitating that event therefore, he pushed it off 
until the last moment. 

How Mr. Fox, placed in the same situation, could have 
avoided the storm, it is impossible to conjecture. He 
was above all state quackery, and never professed to have 
discovered any infallible nostrum by which to subject 
raging political madmen, whether at home or abroad, to 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 371 

he dominion of quiet and reason. He was indeed in 
many respects an easy man, a friendly man, an illustriou<> 
man, with great capacity of head, and much of the milk 
of human kindness in his heart, but the foreign race of 
revolutionists showed no particular attention to individual 
character except in cutting off the heads of those who en- 
joyed it, and there is no reason to believe their disciples 
here would have been more merciful ; the sentence would 
have been pronounced the moment he interfered with 
their system of confusion, having first perhaps made him 
their dupe. 

Admitting, however, that his vigilance on this point 
was greater than he avowed, it is not improbable that, as 
Minister at this moment, he might have parleyed a little 
longer with the Republic ; he might have withheld some 
of our reasonable demands 5 he might have, for the forlorn 
hope of peace, overlooked slighter affronts ; he might still 
have tolerated the revolution, and constitutional and cor- 
responding societies, and their innumerable affiliations : 
he might have submitted some time longer to daily im- 
portations of the emissaries and principles of anarchy ; but 
as the demands on his patience rose, so even his conces- 
sions must have had an end. With all his partialities to 
popular license, he must have discovered to what these 
abuses of it tended. He could not have trifled with the 
quick discernment* of the late King, whose decision in 
moments of alarm has never perhaps been rated at its due 
value. He could not have resisted the deliberate convic- 
tion of his co-adjutors in oflice, and especially of the great 
Whig families, the supporters and partners of his fame 
for so manv years ; and least of all, could he' have with- 
stood, as Minister, the intuitive sagacity, the clear views, 
and conclusive reasonings of Mr. Burke; though as leader 
of Opposition his pride shrunk from acquiescing in any 



37S LIFE OF THE 

thinp^ which implied tacit deference to the measures of 
Mr. Pitt. That war would therefore have ensued, had 
even he been at the helm, it is impossible to doubt ; that 
he vAould have conducted it differently may be probable; 
that it would have been better conducted is at best but 
matter of opinion. But there is some ground to fear that it 
might have been delayed till the enemy had gained more 
ground and more proselyies, till the situation of the allied 
powers had become more precarious, till the throne and 
the constitution were beginning to totter under outrageous 
assaults, and consequendy till our means of defence had 
been weakened. 

It was about this time that the propriety of Mr. Fox's 
politics becoming generally questioned, he thought it ne- 
cessary to publish a defence of them in a letter to the elec- 
tors of Westminster, followed by a resolution of the Whig 
Club, moved by Lord William Russel — that their confi- 
dence in Mr. Fox was confirmed, strengthened, and in- 
creased by the calumnies against him. As this was evi- 
dently levelled at the exceptions to his Piirliamentary con- 
duct taken by Mr. Burke, Mr. Windham, Sir Gilbert 
Elliott, Dr. Laurence, and others, they immediately uith- 
drew their names from the Club ; and as the Duke of 
Pordand and Earl Fitzwilliam seemed to concur in the 
resolution, Mr. Burke, in justification of his own and his 
friends' censures, addressed to the former, as head of the 
party, the famous " Observations on the Conduct of the 
Minority." It details, under fifty-four heads, a very strong 
and perhaps unans\\ erable case against Mr. Fox. It was 
transmitted to the Duke as a confidential communication, 
sealed up, and not to be opened by him till a disconnexion 
of interests with that genUeman should take pi ce, which 
the writer, with characteristic sagacity, pronounced to be 
finally inevitable. So far, therefore, from being intended to 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 373 

produce a rupture betw een the Duke and Mr. Fox, it was 
only to be perused consequent upon such an event occur- 
ring; from other causes. His o\^n v\ords, in the letter ac- 
companying it are, " I now make it my humble reqtiest 
to your Grace, that you will not t^ive any sort of answer 
to the paper I send, or to this letter, except barely to let 
me know that you have received them. I even wish 
that at present you may not read the paper which I trans- 
mit ; lock it up in the dravi^er of your library table, and 
when a day of compulsory reflection comes, then be 
pleased to turn to it. Then remember that your Grace 
had a true friend, who had, comparatively with men of 
your description, a very small interest in opposing; the 
modern system of morality and policy ; but who under 
every discouraajement was faithful to public duty and to 
private friendship. I shall then probably be dead. lam 
sure I do not wish to live to see such thini^s ; but whilst 
I do live, I shall pursue the same course." Communi- 
cated thus in confidence, this paper mij^ht probably have 
remained for ever, or for a long time at least, (inknown 
to the world, but for scandalous breach of confidence in 
Mr. Burke's amanuensis, an equally ungrateful and un- 
principled man, who kept a copy, and surreptitiously- 
printed it in the early part of 1797, under the invidious 
title of " Fifty four Articles of Impeachment against the 
Right Hon. C. J. Fox." — Mr. Burke being then confined 
to his bed, at Bath, his friends obtained an injunction from 
the Chancellor, but too late to prevent its circulation ; he 
disclaimed, he said, in a letter written to Dr. Lawrence 
at the moment, not one of the sentiments, but simply the 
act and intention of publication. 

After the declaration of war, his Parliamentary exer- 
tions were principally confined to questions connected 
with the internal tranquillity of the country, and the pre- 



374< LIFE OF THE 

cautionary measures adopted against secret intercourse 
with France. Another disquisition on the affairs of the 
Cathohcs, which appears in his works without date, ad- 
dressed to his son, is believed to have been drawn up 
about this period, or shortly before. During the sum- 
mer, they both accompanied the Duke of Portland to 
Oxford, on his formal installation as Chancellor of the 
University (Mr. Biirke having also attended his Grace 
in the preceding October, on a private ceremony of the 
same purport at Bulstrode,) when his son, along with 
Mr. Windham and others, received the honorary de- 
gree of LL.D., and the father very marked attention 
from the heads of that establishment. He resided chiefly 
with Mr. VVinstanley, Principal of Alban Hall, and Cam- 
den Professor of Ancient History, who bears this strong 
testimony to his guest's talents as a philologer. " Those 
who are acquainted with the universality of his informa- 
tion will not be surprised to hear ihat it would be exceed- 
ingly difficult to meet w ith a person who knows more of 
the philosophy, the history, and fihation of languages, or 
of the principles of etj mological deduction, than Mr. 
Burke." His society indeed proved a treat to all persons 
of intellectual superiority : Gibbon, who had just arrived 
from Switzerland after some years' absence, sought him 
out immediately, and writes at this time twice in his let- 
ters, "I spent a delightful day with Burke." As a mark 
of respect for his unwearied labours in the public cause, 
events of importance were occasionally communicated to 
him by special messengers as to a cabinet minister. When 
the news of the capture of Valenciennes arrived, an imme- 
diate communication from Mr. Dundas found him at the 
little theatre of Charlefont a few miles from Beaconsfield, 
when he interru|jted the performance, read the contents 
aloud, pointing out the importance of the conquest, and 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 375 

giving the humble orchestra some money for drink, or- 
dered them to play God save the King, which was ac- 
companied by the audience in chorus. 

Though a warm supporter of the war, as the only 
means of saving the country, he differed frequently with 
Ministry on the details ; die mode of carrying it on was 
scarcely ever to his satisfaction, and looking only to the 
results, his objections would seem to have been well 
grounded. 

One of the chief papers on the subject was " Remarks 
on the Policy of the Allies," written about November 
1793, a passage of which displays such an instinctive 
knowledge of France and of Frenchmen, that the cause 
of the ill success of the Bourbons in conciliating the 
public mind of that country in 1814, \\ ill become 
immediately obvious, while it exhibits another instance 
of the sagacity which could teach that family, twen- 
tj'-one years before the event, the only mode of seciaing 
their kingdom in case they should again acquire it. 
" Whoever claims a right by birth to govern there, 
must find in his breast, or conjure up in ir, an energy 
not to be expected, not always to be wished for, in 
well ordered states. The lawful prince must have in 
every thing but crime the character of an usurper. He 
is gone if he imagines himself the quiet possessor of a 
throne. He is to contend for it as much after an apparent 
conquest as before. H»s task is to win it ; he must leave 
posterity, to enjoy and to adorn it. No velvet cushions 
for him. He is to be always (I speak nearly to the letter) 
on horseback. This opinion is the result of much patienf 
thinking on the suhj'^ct, which I conceive no event is 
likely to alter." Th'- declaration or manifesto of the Bri- 
tish government ol' October 29th, he did not approve, or 
at least thought the time chosen for its promulgation in- 



370 I'IFE OF THE 

ap|)licahle and impriulent, from the successes of the ene- 
my, and the reverses of our own arms. 

The dedication of his translation of Tacitus, by Mr. 
Murphy, drew two letters from Mr. Burke of mingled 
acknowledgments and criticism ; the one from Duke- 
street, May 26, 1793, the other from Beaconsficld, in 
December of the same year. In the former he savs, " I 
thank you for the partial light in vvhich you regard my 
weak endeavours for the conservation of that ancient or- 
der of things in nhich we were born, and in which we 
have lived neither unhappily nor disgracefully, and (you 
at least) not unprofitably to your country. As to me, in 
truth I can claim nothing more than good intention in the 
part I have to act. Since I am publicly placed (however 
little suitably so to my abilities or inclination,) I have 
struggled to the best of my power against two great Pub- 
lic Evilsy growing out of the most sacred of all things, 
Liberty and Authority. In the writings which you are 
so indulgent as to bear, I have struggled against the Ty- 
ranny of Freedom ; in this my longest and last struggle 
(the impeachment, to which he had alluded in the fore- 
going part of the letter) I contend against the Licentious- 
ness of Power. When I retire from this, successful or 
defeated, your work will either add to my satisfaction or 
furnish me with comfort. Securiorem et uberiorem^ ma- 
teriam senectuti seposiii.''' 

The second letter is interesting for the literary criticism 
which it contains. 

" I have read the first book through, besides dipping 
here and there into other parts. I am extremely delighted 
with it. You have done what hitherto I think has not 
been done in England ; you have given us a translation 
of a Latin prose writer, which may be read w ith pleasure. 
It would be no compliment at all to prefer your transla= 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 377 

tion to the last, which appeared with such a pomp of pa- 
tronage. Gordon was an author fashionable in his time, 
but he never wrote any thing worthy of much notice but 
that work, by which he has obtained a kind of eminence 
in bad writing, so that one cannot pass it by with mere 
neglect. It is clear to me that he did not understand the 
language from which he ventured to translate ; and that 
he had formed a very whimsical idea of excellence with 
regard to ours. His work is wholly remote from the 
genius of the tongue in its purity, or in any of its jargons. 
It is not English nor Irish, nor even his native Scotch. 
It is not fish nor flesh, nor good red- herring: yours is 
written with facility and spirit, and you do not often de- 
part from the genuine native idiom of the language. 
W ithout attempting, therefore, to modernise terms of art, 
or to disguise ancient customs under new habits, you 
have contrived things in such a manner that your readers 
will find themselves at home. The other translations do 
not familiarise you with ancient Rome, they carry you 
into a new world. By their uncouth modes of expres- 
sion they prevent you from taking an interest in any of its 
concerns. In spite of you they turn your mind from the 
subject, to attend, with disgust, to their unskilful manner 
of treating it ; from such authors we can learn nothing. 

" I have always thought the world much obliged to 
good translators like you. Such are some of the French. 
They who understand the original, are not those who are 
under the smallest obligations to you ; it is a great satis- 
faction to see the sense of one good author in the language 
of another. He is thus alias et idem. Seeing your author 
in a new point of view, you become better acquainted 
with him ; his thoughts make a new and deeper impres- 
sion on the mind. I have always recommended it to 
young n)en in their studies, that when they had made 
3 B 



37^ l-ll'fi OP THE 

themselves thorough masters of a work in the original, 
then (but not till then) to read it in a translation, if in any 
modern language a readable translation was to be found. 
What I say of your translation is really no more than 
very cold justice to my sentiments of your great under- 
taking. I never expected to see so good a translation. 
I do not pretend that it is wholly free from faults, but at 
the same time I think it more easy to discover them than 
to correct them. There is a style which daily gains ground 
amongst us, which I should be sorry to see further ad- 
vanced by the authority of a writer of your just repu- 
tation. The tendency of the mode to which I allude, is 
to establish two very different idioms amongst lis, and to 
introduce a marked distinction between the English that 
is written, and the English that is spoken. This prac- 
tice, if grown a little more general, would confirm this 
distemper, such I must think it, in our language, and 
perhaps render it incurable. 

*' From this feigned manner di falsetto^ as I think the 
musicians call something of the same sort in singing, no 
one modern historian, Robertson only excepted, is per- 
fectly free. It is assumed, I know, to give dignity and 
variety to the style ; but whatever success the attempt 
may sometimes have, it is always obtained at the expense 
of purity and of the graces that are natural and appro- 
priate to our language. It is true that when the exigence 
calls for auxiliaries of all sorts, and common language 
becomes unequal to the demands of extraordinary 
thoughts, something ought to be conceded to the neces- 
sities which make " ambition virtue ;" but the allowances 
to necessities ought not to grow into a practice. Those 
portents and prodigies ought not to grow too common. 
If you have here and there (much more rarely however 
thai: others of great and not unmerited fame) fallen into 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. §79 

an error, which is not that of the dull or careless, you 
have an author who is himself guilty in his own tongue 
of the same fault in a very high degree. No author 
thinks more deeply, or paints more strongly, but he sel- 
dom or never expresses himself naturally. It is plain 
that comparing him with Plautus and Terence, or the 
beautiful fragments of Publius Syrus, he did not write 
the language of good conversation. Cicero is much 
nearer to it. Tacitus, and the writers of his time, have 
fallen into that vice by aiming at a poetical style. It is 
true that eloquence in both modes of rhetoric is funda- 
mentally the same ; but the manner of handling is totally 
different, even where words and phrases may be trans- 
ferred from the one of these departments of writing to the 
other." 

Early in February, 1794, the affections of Mr. Burke 
received a severe shock in the death of his brother Ri- 
chard, with whom, and indeed with all his relatives, he 
had ever lived in a degree of harmony and affection rarely 
witnessed in the most united famihes. There was but 
little difference in their ages. They had started nearly 
at the same time, and under circumstances nearly similar, 
though with very different capacities, to work up the hill 
of life together ; and whenever the weaker powers of the 
younger caused him to lag behind, the hand of the elder 
was immediately extended to aid him on the journey. 
For many years they had but one purse and one house, 
and many of their friendships and pursuits were in com- 
mon. The talents of Richard, though bearing no com- 
parison with those of his brother, were much above me- 
diocrity, and would have placed him high in any sphere 
of life, had not a constitutional vivacity and love of plea- 
sure rendered him impatient of application : he wrote ex- 
tremely well, but wanted industry. Lord Mansfield, who 



380 LIFE OF THE 

had formed a high opinion of his powers, pronounced him 
a rising man at the bar ; but an inclination to politics, and 
the acceptance of the situation of one of the secretaries to 
the Treasury, in 1783, injured his prospects as a lawyer, 
though, through the interest of his brother, he became 
afterwards Recorder of Bristol, and one of the counsel on 
the trial of Mr. Hastings. His person was good ; his 
features handsome ; his manners prepossessing ; which, 
with his wit and humour, gave hiin a ready introduction 
t ) the fashionable society of the metropolis, where Gold- 
smith has described him as 

" Now breaking a jest, and now breaking a limb.*' 

Mr. Burke took httle share in Parliamentary business 
till the session w as pretty far advanced, and then chiefly 
by speaking in favour of voluntary subscriptions and the 
enrolment of troops ; of permitting foreigners to enlist in 
the British army ; of detiuning persons suspected of de- 
signs against the governuient ; opposing, as he had al- 
\va}s done, even when an economical reformer, the vio- 
lent amputation of places and pensions bestowed as the 
rewards of service ; and the address for the liberation of 
La F<>yette, who having neither talents nor influence to 
guide the storm he had so diligently laboured to raise in 
France, fled himself from the destruction, the bloodshed, 
and massacre in v\ hich he had involved so many thou- 
sands of unoffending persons and families,) and being 
seized in his fi'ght, was imprisoned by order of the Em- 
peror of Germany. In the debate on the Volunteer Bill, 
some squibbing t(3ok place w ith Mr. Sheridan ; Mr. 
Burke observed, that long speeches without good mate- 
rials were dangerous, quoting some popular duggrel of 
the American war — 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 381 

•' Solid men of Boston, banish strong potations ; 
"Solid men of Boston, make no long orations. 
" Bow, wow, wow." 

When the wit fancyinsjj that the first line of the couplet, 
if not the second, applied rather too forcibly to him, 
keenly retorted by saying that he remembered some 
other lines from the some approved author — 

" Now it hapt to the country he went for a blessing. 
And from his state daddy^to get a new lesson ; 
He went to daddy Jenky.by trimmer Hal attended. 
In such company, good lack ! how his morals must be mended, 

" Bow, wow, wow," 

To a translation made about this time by Mr. Willium 
Bourke, of " Brissot's Address to his constituents,'' Mr. 
Burke, though without his name, gave a masterly pre- 
face, which exerted general notice, sketching a concise 
but powerful history of the Brissotin or Girondist faction, 
its principles and progress till overwhelmed and guillo- 
tined by that of Robespierre or the Mountain. The 
preface produced a considerable demand for the book. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Junction of the Old JVhgs with Mmistry. — Mr. Burke 
loses his Son, a?icl e.rces'iive Griejl — Letters to TV, 
Smithy Esq.^ to Sir Hercules Langrishe {Ad) to IF. 
Elliott^ Esq.- — Thoughts on Scarcity. — Receives a 
Pension. — Letter to a Noble Lord.— Letters on a 
Regicide Peace. 

Immediately after the conclusion of the session in 
July, 1794, the junction of the Portland party with Mi- 
nistry , which previously existed in fact, took place in 



38S LIFE OF THE 

form by the Duke receiving a blue ribband, the office of 
third Secretary of State, with the management of Ireland ; 
Earl Fitzwilliam becoming President of the Council first, 
and then Lord Lieutenant of that country, Earl Spencer 
Lord Privy Seal, and soon after First Lord of the Admi- 
ralty, and iMr. Windham Secretary at War; Lord Lough- 
borough was already Lord Chancellor. This union, 
which was effected by Mr. Burke, from a conviction of 
its being intimately connected with the safety of the coun- 
try, x\ as represented by some of the more inconsiderate 
friends of Mr. Fox as a wanton desertion of him, and as 
the same story is occasionally repeated even now, the 
accuracy of the statement may be examined in a few 
words. 

On being dismissed from his connexion with Ministry, 
by a contemptuous note from Lord North, in 1774, Mr. 
Fox, as might be expected, joined the Opposition parti- 
cularly, indirectly at least, that division of it of which the 
Marquis of Rockingham was the head, and Mr. Burke 
the efficient leader and soul in the House of Commons, 
His admiration of the latter, which even at this time was 
unreserved, as well perhaps as a family disinclination to 
range himself i.nder the banners of his father's former 
adversary. Lord Chatham, who led the other branch of 
the Minority, might have strengthened this determination ; 
but, in addition to it, the Rockingham party contained by 
far the greater portion of talents, and of numbers, in its 
general principles he professed his warm acquiescence, 
and it promised the readiest road to power. A direct 
junction with it was therefore the only step which an 
ambitious man, in furtherance of his own views, could 
well take. Mr. Burke, in a most friendly, and indeed 
affectionate letter already alluded to, written to him to 
Ireland, in October 1777, and beginning My dear Charles^ 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 383 

instead of attempting to bias his conduct by undue per- 
suasion^ expressly says, " Do not be in haste. Lay your 
foundations deep in pubhc opinion. Though (as you 
are sensible) 1 have never given you the least hint of 
advice about joining yourself in a declared connexion 
with our party, nor do I now; yet, as 1 love that party 
very well, and am clear that you are better able to serve 
them than any man I know; I wish that things should 
be so kept as to leave you mutually very open to one 
another in all changes and contingencies; and I wish this 
the rather, because in order to be very great, as I am 
anxious you should be (always presuming that you are 
disposed to make a good use of power,) you will certainly 
want some better support than merely that of the crown."* 
The choice of his associates was therefore voluntarily, no 
doubt wisely, and at least deliberately made by Mr. Fox. 
He acceded to the Rockingham party in form ; he dis- 
sented from it in no matter of moment, on the contrary 
acknowledging after the death of the Marquis, the Duke 
of Portland and Earl Fitzwilliam as the new heads of the 
connexion, and consulting them on all public measures 
of interest, with the deference due to rank and public 
weight in the country until the occurrence of the French 
Revolution, when his views either changed, or at least 
when the change became obvious to his coadjutors. 

By this time, however, he had formed a considerable 
party of his own. He had gathered around him a number 
of ingenious and able men, many of them young, some 
of them almost grown up under his eye in Parliament, 
who, attracted by the splendour of his talents and reputa- 
tion, eagerly sought his friendship, embraced his opi- 
nions, and who, disregarding, or not acknowledging any 

* Burke's Works, vol. ix. 8vo. ed. p. 156, 



384.' LIFE OF THE 

other influence, looked to hinn alone as their leader. In 
return for this distinction, he probabh found it necessary 
to accommodate so-ne of his opinions to theirs; and the 
eventful scenes inissinpj in France being well calculated 
to engage in their favour the ardent feelings of these friends 
as well as his own to a considerable degree, added to the 
hope of strong popular support, their re-action upon each 
other probably produced that degree of heat in the cause, 
and dissent from his more ancient connexions which had 
hitherto been evident only on the single question of par- 
liamentary reform. It was also urged by his adherents, 
that his views and principles on public affairs were more 
on a level witli the free and enlightened spirit of the age 
than those of Mr. Burke, who was represented as fettered 
by old systems and prejudices, and too strong an adhe- 
rence to the notions of the aristocracy in matters of go- 
vernment. 

Whatever be the cause, just at the critical moment in 
question, Mr. Fox appeared to push to excess in theory, 
and seeming approval in practice, doctrines x'i hich the 
Old Whigs, as well as others, conceived to be at variance 
with sound discretion. " In my journey with them 
through life," said Mr. Burke, " I met Mr. Fox in my 
road, and I travelled with him very cheerfully as long as 
he appeared to me to pursue the same direction with 
those in whose company I set out. In the latter stage 
of our progress a new scheme of liberty and equality was 
produced in the world, which either dazzled his imagi- 
nation, or was suited to some new walks of ambition 
which were then opened to his view. The whole frame 
and fashion of his politics appeared to have suffered about 
that time a very material alteration.'' At this period he 
withdrew his political allegiance from the acknowledged 
heads of the party, who were no longer consulted on any 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 3S5 

of his measures, and in Parliament he treated with asperity 
and ridicule their opinions and their fears for the public 
safetv. Still, with the exception of Mr. Burke and a 
few others, the majority were unwillinj^ to come to a rup- 
ture; they were loth to quit him, and yet knew not how, 
with propriety or satisfaction to themselves, to continue 
to act with him; and it was not one of the least curious 
anomalies of the time to hear many who gave him their 
votes and general support in the House, condemn their 
own votes and all his proceedings in detail, the moment 
they quitted it. The general belief was that time and 
experience would produce an alteration of sentiments, as 
the crimes of the revolutionists became developed; a few 
of his friends have even lately expressed an opinion that 
but for the heat on both sides, with which the rupture 
between him and Mr. Burke was attended, the latter 
"Would have wound him round to his views; and it is cer^ 
tain that up to the session of 1792 — 1793, the latter him- 
self said he did not consider their breach irreparable, and 
he had just before in the summer of 1792, as already 
noticed, laboured with much diligence to induce him, 
along with the rest of the Portland party, to jojn the Mi- 
nistry in a period of such national peril. More than three 
years' experience, however, convinced the whole of that 
body that his co-operation was not to be expected ; the 
junction, as already stated, therefore took place, but the 
deliberate consideration that preceded, and the pecuniary 
arrangements which attended it, so far as he ^vas con- 
cerned, left him without the slightest cause for complaint. 
It was illiberal, therefore, and inconsistent on the part of 
his partizans to accuse them of deserting him ; he, on the 
contrary, might be more truly said to have deserted 
them ; they were the head of the connexion, to their 
system he had acceded, and if he found cause to dissent 
f? C 



386 J-H'E O*' THE 

from the general principles which they had always hitherto 
acknowledged, the difference could not be justly laid to 
their charge. 

The conduct of this body indeed at the moment dis- 
played any thing rather than undue eagerness for power. 
The first determination of the Duke of Portland and Mr. 
Windham was not to accept of office, believing that more 
support might be given to government by an open and un- 
influenced vote inParliament than by becoming officially 
connected with it— a disinterested and patriotic idea cer- 
tainly, but not perhaps a very sound conclusion in the busi- 
ness of governing a kingdom. Mr. Burke soon taught 
them, and was well enabled to teach them, better ; for long 
and hardly earned experience had satisfied him, in his own 
case if in no other, how comparatively useless are the 
most splendid talents and the best intentions without the 
possession of power to give them effect. It is to his ho- 
nour, that the handsome annuity setUed by the party on 
Mr. Fox previous to their final separation, met with his 
warm approval. 

A calamity now overtook Mr. Burke of the most griev- 
ous as uell liS unexpected description, uhich all his reli- 
gion and philosophy were exerted in vain to surmount. 
This was the death of his son Mr. Richard Burke, on the 
2d of August, 1794, at the early age of 36. His health, 
though for some time in an unsettled state, was so far 
from being a source of apprehension to the fond father, 
that he was looking forward with anxiety to the moment 
when, by his own retirement from Parliament, he should 
be able to give him that opportunity for taking part in 
public affairs to which he thought his talents in every way 
equal. For this purpose he had just relinquished to him 
(the manager s share in the trial of Mr. Hastings having 
finished) his seat for Malton. He was further gratified 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 387 

by having him appointed Secretary to his {jriend Earl 
Fitzwilliam, the new Viceroy of Ireland ; and at a dinner 
given about this time to several friends, the father, 
wholly unconscious of the impending danger, was antici- 
pating for him a brilliant career of service in that country, 
though the guests viewed his hectic and disordered coun- 
tenance with very different emotions. None of these, 
however intimate, ventured to express their fears. Nei- 
ther did the physicians think it prudent to alarm him by 
premature disclosure, in case of the disease, which was 
judged to be a decline, proving gradual and lingering ; 
Dr. Brocklesby giving it as his opinion, from perfect ac- 
.quaintance with the strong paternal affection and sensitive 
feelings of Mr. Burke, that a knowledge of the real na- 
ture of the disease and of the danger would probably prove 
fatal to him sooner than to his son. Cromwell House at 
Brompton was, however, taken for him by their advice, 
to be in the air, and yet near to town preparatory to his 
journey to Ireland. Here he became rapidly worse; and 
concealment being longer impossible, the melancholy 
truth was at length communicated, just a week before the 
fatal event occurred, to the father ; who, from this time 
till the fate of his offspring was decided, slept not, scarcely 
tasted food, or ceased from the most affecting lamenta- 
tions, seeming to justify the prediction of the physician, 
that had it been communicated to him sooner his own 
death might have been the result. 

In the closing scene itself there were some circum- 
stances sufficiently affecting. The poor sufferer passed 
the night preceding his dissolution in a very restless and 
agitated state, though resigned to that decree which was 
so soon to separate him from the world ; bat in the morn- 
ing, heairing the loud lamentations of his parents in an ad- 
joining room, and anxious as far as in his power to relieve. 



388 LIFE OF THE 

their agony by seemin.^ better than be really was, he rose 
with some assistance, and leaninqj on the arm of the faith- 
ful housekeeper (Mrs. Webster) and her husband pro- 
ceeded to the door of the room in which they were sit- 
ting, desiring his supporters to quit him before they came 
within sitJfht of his father and mother — a kind of affec- 
tionate imposition meant to impress them with a belief 
of his staining strenii;th. He even made a vigorous effort 
to tread the room with a firm step, walking across it to 
the window and thence towards where they sate in the 
deepest distress viewing him with intense anxiety, but 
unable to utter a word. To some eflforts which he made 
to console them, excessive grief still prevented any reply; 
— " Speak to me, my dear father," said he, in a pathetic 
tone, "speak to me of religion, speak to me of morality, 
speak to me of indifferent matters, for I derive much sa- 
tisfaction from v\hat you say." Shortly afterwards hear- 
ing some noise without doors, he inquired whether it was 
rain, adding immediately, no; it is but the wind whistling 
through the trees, and then repeated in a solemn manner 
three lines from Adam's hymn to the morning, which 
had been favourites with his uncle Richard, and were re- 
peated by him more than once just before his death : 

" His praise, ye winds, that from four quarters blow. 
Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops ye pines. 
With every plant, in sign of worship wave." 

He repeated them a second time with increased solem- 
nity, and had scarcely finished the concluding word of 
the passage, when the hand of death smote him, and stag- 
gering into the arms of his father, was carried in a state 
of insensibility to bed, where shortly afterwards without 
reviving he breathed his last. 

The grief of this most fond and most affectionate of 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 398 

fathers afforded perhaps one of the most heart rending 
scenes ever witnessed in real hfe, or conceived by the 
strongest imagination, or described by tlie pen of fiction ; 
for it was, as an eye witness and friend of the family used 
to sav, " truly ternfic.*'' His bursts of affliction were 
of fearful force, so overwhelming indeed as to fright and 
almost to paralyse those who were around him. For a 
moment he would be calm, but it was the calm of unut- 
terable despair, when suddenly a whirlwind of agony aris- 
ing in his mind, he would burst from all control, rush into 
the chamber where his dead son was laid, and dash him- 
self with violence, as it happened, on the bed, or on the 
lifeless body, or on the floor, calling in the most affecting 
exclamations, for the hope of his age, the stay of his life, 
the only comfort of his declining and now joyless years. 
— It would be difficult to convey an adequate idea of this 
scene, which was frequently repeated during the first day, 
and exhibited the very desperation of grief; but a pro- 
mise was then exacted-from him, w hich he kept, not again 
to go into the room where the corpse remciined. At other 
moments he would rally his mind and express his sub- 
mission to the will of Providence, employing hi nself in 
little offices such as the deceased used to do, or which he 
thought would be agreeable to him if alive. Again he 
would attempt to constJe Mrs. Burke, whose distraction 
of mind, not less deep, though less violent than his own, 
would admit of no alleviation but frequent and alarming 
bursts of tears, regretting in the intervals that a slight hurt 
she had received a few days previously had not terminated 
in her own death sooner than live to witness the extinc- 
tion of all her hopes. Her husband frequently wisiied 
her to q-iit the melancholy scene, but she repeatedly re- 
fused ; " No, Edmund," was the reply, " as long as he 
remains here, I'll remain here ;" at length, however, giv- 



390 LIFE OF THL 

ing way lo the persuasions of several friends, she unwil- 
lingly quitted the house previous to the funeral. 

The son thus deeply lamented had always conducted 
himself with so much filial duty and affection towards 
both parents, and more especially in soothing the unavoid- 
able irritations to which his father was subjected by in- 
cessant occupation in public affairs, as to sharpen the na- 
tural feelings of sorrow of the parent, by reflecting that 
he had also lost a counsellor and friend. Their confi- 
dence on all subjects was even more unreserved than 
commonly prevails between father and son, and their es- 
teem for each other higher. The son looked to the fa- 
ther as one of the first, if not the very first, character in 
history ; the father had formed the very highest opinion 
of the talents of the son, and among his friends rated theiti 
superior to his own ;* he had enlarged the house at Bea- 
consfield for his particular pursuits and accommodation, 
he consulted him for some years before his death on al- 
most every subject whetlier of a public or private nature 
that occurred, and very often followed his judgment in 
preference to his own where they happened to differ ; he 
possessed lively parts, much knowledge, and firmness and 
decision of mind. 

The loss of such a companion and confidant, the un- 
expected and irremediable destruction of the hopes en- 
tertained of his advancement and fame, and as the only 
remaining child, the consequent extinction of the hopes 
of descendants to continue his name, was naturally felt 



* " Mr. Bennet Langton told the Countess of Waldegrave, that 
in a conversation one day with Mr. Burke, he uttered this senti- 
ment: ' How extraordinary it is, that 1, and Lord Chatham, and 
Lord Holland should each have a son so superior to ourselves !' '* 

31iss Hawkinses Memoirs. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 391 

with excessive poignancy. It shook his frame indeed to 
its centre, and though without the shghtest effect on his 
intellectual energies, his bodily powers rapidly declined. 
He never afterwards could bear to look towards Beacons- 
field Church, the place of his interment ; nor was he per- 
haps for any length of time ever absent from his mind 
except when engaged in literary composition, which 
therefore became rather a relief than a labour. The late 
Bishop of Meath (O'Beirne) used to say that the first 
time he had an opportunity of seeing him after the me- 
lancholy event, he was shocked to observe the change 
which it had produced in his appearance; his counte- 
nance displayed traces of decay and of mental anguish, his 
chest was obviously much sunk, and altogether exhibited 
the appearance of one bowed down both in frame and in 
spirit by affliction. 

Nearly all his private letters and publications written 
after this time contain many and pathetic allusions to his 
loss, and in his conversation they were still more frequent. 
He called him " the hope of his house,'^ " the prop of his 
age," "' his other and better self." Writing to a relation 
on the birth of a son, he said, " may he live to be the 
staff of your age and close your eyes in peace, instead of, 
like me, reversing the order of nature and having the 
melancholy office to close his.^^ To Mr. (now Baron) 
Smith he writes : " So heavy a calamity has fallen ifpon 
me as to disable me for business and to disqualify me 
for repose. The existence I have I do not know that I 
can call life * * Good nights to you — I never can have 
any." To Sir Hercules Langrishe he talks of the re- 
mainder of his " short and cheerless existence in this 
world." In a letter to Lord Auckland, he says, " For 
myself or for my family (alas ! I have none) I have no- 
thing to hope or to fear in this world." The Letter to 



39S LIFE OP THE 

a noble Lord speaks of *' the sorrows of a desolate old 
man.'' And again, *' The storm has gone over me ; and 
I lye like one of those old oaks which the late hurricane 
has scattered ahont me. I am stripped of all m\ hon- 
ours ; I am torn up by the root^ and lye prostrate on the 
earth.'' " I am alone. I have none to meet my ene- 
mies in the s^ate. 1 i<reatly deceive myself if in this hard 
season of life I v\ould give a peck of refuse uheat for all 
that is called fame and honour in the world ;" and num- 
berless others scattered through his subsequent writings. 
It was a matter of the least consideration that except for 
this heavy affliction Mr. Burke was to have been raised 
to the honours of the peerage, but infirm, childless, and 
desponding, every feeling of ambition became now ex- 
tinguished as the preceding expression plainly intimates. 
Notwithstanding this, perhaps, it should have been be- 
stowed and accepted ; it would have been a satisfaction, 
if not to himself, at least to his friends and to his admirers, 
as a testimony of national gratitude to a man of such ex- 
traordinary and varied talents, exerted with extraordinary 
vigour in every department of the public service ; and 
as a passport to the greater favour and consideration of 
that numerous class of the community (and those too not 
of the least rank or influence,) who would estimate at a 
verv different value the exertions and services of plain 
Mr.* Burke, and those of Lord Burke, or Lord Beacons- 
field. 

In person, young Burke was not so tall or so muscular 
as his father, but well formed and active, his features 
smaller and more delicate, though handsome and expres- 
sive, supposed to bear some resemblance to those of his 
uncle Richard, and his complexion florid. A picture of 
him by Sir Joshua Reynolds is an admirable likeness, 
" as exact," said a literary lady, a friend of the family. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE, 393 

who saw it at the painter's before it was sent home, " as 
the reflexion of a mirror." From this portrait his father, 
soon after his death, caused a print to be engraved, which 
preserves much of the spirit of the original. Underneath 
it, after his name, age, and the date of his death, are the 
following lines, altered in a slight degree from Dryden's 
elegiac poem of Eleonora — 

" As precious gums are not for common fire. 
They but perfume the temple and expire ; 
So was he soon exhaled and vanish'd hence, 
A short sweet odour at a vast expense." 

Adding to these, as at once characteristic of his grief, and 
his pride, 

" dolor atque decus." 

For some time after this loss, Mr. Burke was too much 
hurt by it to take any very active interest in any thing 
else, nor did his friends think it decorous to intrude upon 
his sorrows by solicitations for his opinions on public 
affairs ; but as these from long habit had become a spe- 
cies of daily aliment to his mind, they were now a relief 
to it by serving; to dispel more melam holy thoughts. His 
communications with Ministry, however, fro ;vi this time 
ceased, and his influence thenceforward was wholly pub- 
lic. One t)f the first fruits of the renewed vigour of his 
pen was the Letter to Baron Smith, dated J.muary i29th, 
1795, in reply to one from that gentleman on the Roman 
Catholic question, which being handed about in Dublin, 
at length found its way to the press, though without per- 
mission of the writer or of his correspondent. In this he 
pleads for the removal of all the disabilities of that body, 
and in speaking of the religion itself uses the language of 
men of sense and of statesmen — that as the faith of four- 
3 D 



^01* LIFE OF THtr 

fifths of the community of the country, it should not be 
hostilely treated — that as a thing irremovable, it is the 
business of wisdom to make the most of it — " that it 
ought to be cherished as a good (though not as the most 
preferable good if a choice was now to be made,) and not 
tolerated as an inevitable evil." He urges with force that 
their exclusion from Parliament which confers no jjower 
is useless, and merely a stigma and reproach, while they 
are admitted to the possession of substantial power in 
elections, in the army, in the navy, the professions, and 
civil offices — that a Clerk of Parliament, to which they 
may be eligible, has really more power, so far as power 
is concerned, than nine-tenths of the Members of the 
House, to which they were not eligible to aspire. 

A second Letter to Sir Hercules Langrishe^ alluding 
to an able speech upon the same subject made by that 
gentleman in the Irish House of Commons, followed, in 
the month of May of the same year. This had been 
scarcely dispatched to its destination, when he had to 
turn round and defend himself from an attack of the Duke 
of Norfdlk in the House of Lords, accusing him, in the 
usual strain of the Minority, of turning the powerful bat- 
teries of his tongue and his pen against Whig principles, 
against the constitution, and against freedom. The re- 
ply, in a Letter to IFilliam Elliott, Esq. is couched in a 
strain of irony and sarcastic humour. He confesses tha;; 
he is somewhat incorrigible — somewhat purblind to the 
blessings of French freedom ; — that he must neverthe- 
less continue in the way he set out, that is, to try and save 
his Grace, and persons like his Grace, from themselves. 
— *' I admit indeed that my praises of the British go- 
vernment, loaded with all its incumbrances; clogged 
with its Peers and its beef; its parsons and its pudding ; 
its Commons and its beer ; and its dull slavish liberty oi 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 395 

going about just as one pleases, had something to pro- 
voke a * jockey of Norfolk' who was inspired with the 
resolute ambition of becoming a citizen of France." 

In October, he received a friendly letter from Lord 
Auckland, remarking that though it had seldom been 
their lot to sail through the ocean of politics on the same 
tack, their destination was the same — the public good ; 
and on his part always accompanied by the most friendly 
and respectful sentiments towards him, under which in- 
fluence he begged to inclose his pamphlet just then pub- 
lished, " Remarks on the apparent Circumstances of the 
War in the fourth week of October, 1795." The reply 
of Mr. Burke displayed an equal degree of courtesy ; but 
though both engaged in support of government, their 
views of public policy and the situation of the country 
were as diametrically opposite as they ever had been on 
the American contest. Which proved again the more 
correct, it is scarcely necessary to say. The main pur- 
pose of the pamphlet was to recommend peace with 
France, and to insintiate that the time was favourable to 
the design, both which propositions are refuted by Mr. 
Burke, with much vigour of reasoning and some sarcas- 
tic humour, in the " Fourth Letter on a regicide Pei.ce," 
addressed at the moment to Earl Fitzwilliam, though only 
published among his posthumous Works. 

Considerable distress arising from the dearness of pro- 
visions at this season, and many remedial schemes pro- 
posed in consequence, he addressed to Mr. Pitt, in No- 
vember of the same year, " Thoughts and Details on 
Scarcity." These are of permanent interest from their 
acquaintance with rural affairs, and their practical exposi- 
tion of the connexion existing between farmer and la- 
bourer, which he had found time to note down amid so 
much political meditation and contention ; quite enough, 



396 LIFE OF THE 

it might be supposed, to occupy any one man's life with- 
out attending to the minute details of agriculture. He 
explodes the idea then abroad of settling a fixed price for 
labour, or of establishing public granaries. The half- 
jocular, half serious apology for the use of spirituous li- 
quors in contradiction to the declamation of common- 
place moralists and philosophers, is another instance of 
his attention to facts and to the actual state and desires of 
the bulk of mankind, who, he justly observes, ever have 
and ever u ill, use this or something similar to it in effect ; 
" Whether the thunder of the laws," says he, "or the 
thunder of eloquence, ' is hurled on giriy always I am 
thunder-proof." 

Few things indeed which concerned the business, the 
well-being, or the wants of men generally, or of those 
more immediately around him, escaped his diligent re- 
search. He surprised a distinguished literary and political 
character who abojit this period paid him a visit at Bea- 
consficld, by entering into a history of the progress of 
farming, of improvements, of rents, taxes, and the varia- 
tions in the poor's rates of fifty parishes in the county 
during several consecutive years, with the fulness of a 
farmer, whose life had been spent in attending to little 
else. The '* Thoughts," just mentioned, he had deter- 
mined to enlarge by the introduction of new facts, intend- 
ing to re-model and publish them under the title of 
*' Letters on Rural (Economics, addressed to Mr. Arthur 
Young ;" the woi k was even advertised ; from the more 
urgent claims of politics, however, the design dropped, 
though he could have brought to the subject considerable 
practical knowledge, having actually predicted early in 
the season the bad harvest of 1793, and finding little 
credence to his prognostics in the country, brought his 
carnage nearlj full of young wheat ears to town to con- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 39/ 

viiice bis friends there of the fact, but with little more 
success. Several plans for improvini; the condition of 
the poor in his neighbourhood originated with him. He 
particularly recommended, as promoting a spirit of honest 
independence, institutions for mutual support in cases of 
age and infirmity; and visited, superintended, and sub- 
scribed to them, inculcating also sentiments among the 
members of piety, order, and industry. Harvest- Home 
was always celebrated at Butler's Court (changed from 
its former appellation of Gregories) with abundant hospi- 
tality, the family mingling in the gaiety of the scene with- 
out reserve. The forlorn condition of the unhaj^py exiles 
from France particularly excited his commiseration, and 
his house became a refuge for some of the most dis- 
tinguished till more certain means of support could be 
provided, incurring many pecuniary difficulties from this 
unbounded humanity; others he recommended to his 
friends ; and for the general body he was a constant inter- 
cessor with government. The well-known sfthool at 
Penn, in his vicinity, for their destitute offspring, was 
established under his immediate care and patronage, and 
in his will he commends it strenuously to the continued 
favour of government. 

In October, 1795, a grant, though a tardy one, was 
awarded to his eminent public services in a pension of 
1200/. per annum on the civil list, and afterwards another 
of 2500/. on the four and a half per cent, fund ; neither 
of them sc licited directly or indirectly, but said to have 
originated from the express wish of the King. The 
manner in which it came, however, formed no object of 
consideration w ith the j)olitical party to whom he was 
opposed, the simple fact of receiving it being deemed 
sufficient to justify pretty strong censures in Parliament, 
and from the less respectable portion of it out of doors 



39B LIFE OF THE 

connected with the press, the most rancorous abuse, and 
the most unjust and un£>enerous imputations, which 
among the same class of persons are occasionally con- 
tinued to the present day. It was in vain to urf^e that it 
was deserved by lengthened and very remarkable public 
services — by his personal disinterestedness on m.nv oc- 
casions — by his Reform Bill, which for twelve vears past 
had saved the country nearly 80,000/. annually in hard 
money, as well as the extinction of a source ^f what mi;^ht 
have been converted to undue iiHuence in Parliament — by 
the reformation of the pay-office in guarding against the 
serious deficits so frequently experienced there, and ren- 
dering available to the public service about 1,000,000/. 
the usual balance in hand — and if for nothing else, by his 
exertions against the revolutionary opinions of the day; 
which in the general belief warded off the most imminent 
peril with v^hich the constitution of the country had been 
threatened since the time of James II. These latter 
labours, however, constituted his sole offence in the 
eyes of his former coadjutors and admirers; they had 
nothing else to allege against him, and the acceptance of 
the pension was considered as the consummation of the 
crime. The heat of the moment caused them to forget 
that a pension is the usual and most open and honourable 
mode of rewarding great abilities devoted to the advance- 
ment of the public good; that if receiving it were a proof 
of corruption, few of their own friends at that moment 
but were equally corrupt ; and that in fact, tried by this 
standard of purity, there was scarcely a single honest 
public name, not excepting Lord Chatham himself, to 
be found in our annals. Adjainst those effusions of irri- 
tation rather than of good sense or argument, Mr. Burke 
had to place a public life of thirty years of unsullied puri- 
ty, which, in the language of an eminent Whig, when 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 399 

allnding to ihe fact, •* was proof against his own embar- 
rassed circumstances." 

The effects of clamour and abuse, whether right or 
wrong, when perseveringly continued, are rarely inconsi- 
derable. Some even of his admirers began to doubt the 
propriety of his accepting the boon, among whom was 
the anonymous author of the ** Pursuits of Literature,'' 
who, though, convinced, as he said, that no man ever 
better, or possibly so well, deserved it, seems inclined to 
think he ought not to have received it, in order to avoid 
the possibility of imputation upon his motives. This is 
a refinement of fastidiousness not to be looked for in the 
affairs of the world, and if attended to, would preclude 
most public servants from experiencing public gratitude. 
If a statesman has honourably earned reward, if it be 
honourably ofiered to his acceptance, and if he be, from 
the nature of his private circumstances, really in want of 
it, why, it may be asked, should it not be received? 
Would it not indicate weakness rather than strength of 
mind to be frighted from it by vulgar abuse, or by wait- 
ing to obtain that which never was, and never can be, 
received — universal assent to his merits ? Or, are the 
insignificant in talents, the worthless and inefficient, or 
those who are already rich, and do not want it, alone to 
profit by the public bounty? " The word pension," said 
Lord Macartney, a statesman of experience and unspot- 
ted integrity even in India, then the hot-bed of tempta- 
tion, " gives great offence to some gentlemen, but for my 
part I have lived too much in the world to suffer myself 
to be imposed upon by a word or a name. In every 
other country of Europe, a pension is considered the 
most honourable recompense which a subject can enjoy 
— I speak of free countries, such for instance as Sweden. 
* * * A pension is infinitely more honourable than a 



400 LIFE OF THE 

sinecure office; the one loudly speaks its meaning, but 
the other hypocritically lurks under a supposition of duty 
where there is nothinj^ to do." His Lordship might 
have added that though many agree to abuse pensions, 
most men, when they have the opportunity, find it con- 
venient to accept them. 

The hostility to Mr. Burke on this occasion w^as car- 
ried mXo the House of Lords by the Duke of Bedford, 
and the Earl of Lauderdale, thoutch answered by an ani- 
mated defence from Lord Grenville there, and from Mr. 
Windham in the House of Commons. Some surprise 
was expressed that men of such consideration in the 
country, making every allowance for party feelings, 
should display so much illiberality toward the defender, 
perhaps the saviour of that very rank and property which 
served to elevate them above the mass of mankind, and 
from an atom of w hich, notwithstanding the countenance 
given to the new opinions, they would have been ex- 
tremely loth to part. It seemed ungenerous that this 
should be done by former associates, by meb who had 
acquiesced in grants to other, though less distinguished, 
public men for public services, and who from their posi- 
tion in the state might be supposed to rate at its proper 
value a long and laborious career, and to estimate those 
still more intense, though unseen and unrewarded labours, 
which form the toilsome preparatory to public eminence. 

The attack, however, had the eflpect of drawing forth 
the celebrated " Letter to a Noble Lord," the most bril- 
liant exhibition of powers perhaps in the whole range of 
English prose, which on first meeting with I read over 
twice (many parts half a dozen times) without intermis- 
sion, and w ith no ordinary wonder at the powers of sar- 
casm, of irony, of indignant remonstrance, of pointed re- 
buke, and of imagery, in those few but bold and extra- 



BIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 401 

ordinary figures which not merely impress the mind of 
the reader at the moment but are seldom forgotten. The 
striking passages are neaVly as numerous as the sentences 
— a collection of flashes of indignant genius, roused by 
a sense of injury and aggression to throw out its consum- 
ing fires with no common force on the heads of the ag- 
gressors; — " I perceive in it," says the author of * The 
Pursuits of Literature,' " genius, ability, dignity, imagi- 
nation, and sights more than youthful poets when they 
dreamed, and sometimes the philosophy of Plato and the 
wit of Lucian." The pathetic lamentation for the loss 
of his son ; the glowing tribute to the memory of his 
old friend in whose heart he had a place till the last beat, 
Lord Keppel uncle to the Duke of Bedford, show a dif- 
ferent though not less striking style of powers. The 
notice of his own services to the country is less a formal 
recapitulation which the occasion in some degree called 
for, than a manly and modest allusion, — ^it is forcible and 
comprehensive, and what perhaps (the assertion is not 
made without deliberation) no other English statesman 
of the period can say. " My merits were, in having had 
an active though not always an ostentatious share ^ in every 
one act^ without exception^ of undisputed constitutional 
utility in my time.'' The jealousies already noticed, 
which he had to surmount in his career, are strongly hint- 
ed at in the following passage : " I possessed not one of 
the qualities, nor cultivated one of the t -, that recom- 
mend men to the favour and protection of the great. I 
was not made for a minion or a tool. As little did I fol- 
low the trade of v\ inning the hearts by imposing on the 
understandings of the peo])le. At every step in my pro- 
gress in life (for in every step was I traversed and op- 
posed,) and at every turnpike I met I was obliged to show 
my passport, and again and again to prove my sole title 
3 E 



40;S LIFE OF THE 

to the honour of being useful to my country by a proof 
that I Mas not \^ holly unacquainted with its laws and the 
\\hoIe system of its interests both abroad and at home. 
Otherwise no rank, no toleration even for me. I had no 
arts but manly arts. On them I have stood, and, please 
God, in spite of the Duke of Bedford, and the Earl of 
Lauderdale, to the last gasp will I stand/* 

To the Duke, w ho has long passed to the common 
receptacle of Whig and Tory, of Commoner and Peer, 
he particularly points his reprehension. His Grace's 
little experience in public business, his partiality to the 
party whose tenets were supposed to sap or threaten the 
foundations of all rank and property, the enormous grants 
of the crown to /lis family in former days, and his youth, 
were openings to an effective assault from any writer, but 
to an intellectual gladiator like Mr. Burke offered over- 
powering advantages. With such an opponent it was 
dani^erous to have any thing to do ; the ablest men, even 
in his unguarded moments, never came off without some 
grievous inflictions; like the electrical fish, if yriu touched 
him in anger he shook you to your centre. *' I decline,'' 
said the indignant veteran, " his Grace's jurisdiction as 
a judge. I challenge the Duke of Bedford as a juror to 
pass upon the value of my services. I cannot recognise 
in his few and idle years, the competence to judge of my 
long and laborious life." Not content with overthrowing 
the politician, he aims a more deadly blow at his posses- 
sions, in alluding to the mode by which they were said to 
be acquired: one of the figures used is equally singular 
and powerful, rising to a high strain of eloquence, and 
furnishing one of the most forcible examples in rhetoric 
of the argumentum ad hom'mem. — " The grants to the 
house of Russel (by Henry VHI.) were so enormous as 
not only to outrage economy, but even to stagger credi- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 4d3 

bility. The Duke of Bedford is the leviathan among all 
the creatures of the crown. He tumbles about his un- 
wieldy bulk; he plays and frolics in the ocean of the 
royal bounty. Huge as he is, and whilst * he lies floating 
many a rood' he is still a creature. His ribs, his fins, his 
whalebone, his blubber, the very spiracles through which 
he spouts a torrent of brme against his origin, and covers 
ihe all over with the spray — every thing of him, and 
about him, is from the crown. Is it for him to question 
the dispensation of the royal favour ?" 

Report says that the account given in this work of the 
origin of the Russel possessions is erroneous; it has never, 
however, been disproved, and Mr. Burke is not likely to 
have risked mere conjecture where confulaticjn was so 
easy. It was on his part a serious, but not an unfair re- 
taliation ; for against an invading and wanton enemy all 
arms may be used, and he must be a poor soldier who 
chooses the weaker in preference to the stronger weapon. 
The regret perhaps is, that he wielded his advantage 
rather imprudently than unjustly, by furnishing hints to 
the Agrarians or Jacobins of a future day, who may be 
inclined to make experiments on what he calls the " low, 
fat, Bedford level." 

His other assailant on this occasion, the Earl of Lau- 
derdale, still to the delight of his friends, adorns that 
house of which he has long been so distinguished a mem- 
ber. Doubdess he has regretted the momentary injus- 
tice done to an old acquaintance and political leader ;* as 

* From many complimentary eflfusions of his Lordship to Mr. 
Burke, the following handsome one, applied to his Reform Bill 
in 1781, is selected. — " He (Mr. Burke) was the only man in the 
country whose powers were equal to th"' forming and accom- 
plishing so systematic and able a plan of reform ; not a mean, 
narrow, wretched scheme of retrenchment, breaking in upon the 



404* . LIFE OF THE 

he is also said to have read his recantation from the theo 
prevailing delusions of favour toward the French system 
of freedom of 1793, and to parliamentary reform. While 
so many able men however were thus misled, it must 
impress us still more with a conviction of the sagacit)'^ of 
their i^reat opponent, who distinguished at a glance what 
it cost others so much leaching and lecturing and mental 
hammering to learn, in the school of political mistake and 
failure. 

The misfortunes of the war, and the triumphant career 
of the Republican arn s on the Continent, producing a 
feeling of despondency among some, of the warmest 
friends of government, and a clamour for peace, Minis- 
try gave uay to it by opening negociations through two 
or three channels with the agents of the Republic, who 
recei\ed our advances with no small degree of insolence. 
Mr. Burke feeling for the national dignity, and convinced 
also that no useful results would ensue, saw v\ith regret 
the timid and alarmed feelings that produced them. " To 
a people u ho have been onc^ proud and great, and great 
because they were pro d," said he, " a change in the na- 
tional spirit is the most terrible of all revolutions." 

Tore-animate the drooping courage of the country, he 
again had recourse to his, pen in 1796, bequeathing it the 
product in a dying legacy, " Thoughts on a Regicide 
Peace," in tv\o letters addressed to a Member of the 
House of Commons. It is one of his best pieces, writ- 
ten in a wholly different style from the last j for as the 
letter to a noble Lord may be considered a kind of field- 
day to the light troops of his genius and imagination, this 
may be taken as the breajihir.g battery of the heavy artil- 

dignity of the crown, and the honour bf the^nation, but a great 
and beautiful arrangement of office, calculated not to degrade ^ 
government, but to exalt and to adorn it," 



RIGHT HON EDMUND BURKE. . 405 

kry of his judgment and powers of reasoning. Many 
persons, and those no mean judges, look to it as his 
greatest efibrt of mind, in the strong, full, yet clear train 
of argument, precision of view and unity of purpose, sub- 
mitted to the serious reflexion of the nation, without any 
appeal to the passions, or allowing himself scarcely the 
use of a figure. The outset offers a profound remark 
which in great degree" demolishes a favourite popular no- 
tion. " I am not quite of the mind of those speculators 
■who seem assured that necessarily, and by the constitu- 
tion of things, all states have the same periods of infancy, 
manhood, and decrepitude, that are found in the indivi- 
duals who compose them. Parallels of this sort rather 
furnish similitudes to illustrate or to adorn, than supply 
analogies from whence to reason. The objects which 
are attempted to be forced into an analogy are not found 
in the same classes of existence. Individuals are physi- 
cal beings subject to, laws universal and invariable. The 
immediate cause acting in these laws may be obscure ; 
the. general results are subjects of certain calculation. 
But commonwealihs are not physical but moral essences. 
They are artificial combinations, and in their proximate 
efficent cause, the arbitrary productions of the human 
mind. We are not yet acquainted with the laws which 
necessarily influence the stability of that kind of work 
made by that kind of agent." 

Tv\o other letters under the same title — one of which 
was in progress through the press when he died, the other 
arranged from his manuscripts by his executors, and not 
published for a considerable time afterwards — pursue the 
subject in its various relations with the same vigour. To 
those who have passed thnjiigh that tempestuous and 
alarming period, or to those who wish thoroughly to know 
what it was, they will be always sources of interest ; they 



406 LIFE OP THK 

furnish the best idea of the true origin, and deadly na- 
ture of the war, of the impossibility of concluding peace 
upon any terms consistent with national honour and se- 
curity, and prove that peace, if procured, would in reality 
be more dangerous to our best interests than continued 
hostility. The character drawn of what he calls " the 
Cannibal Republic,'" in different parts of the letters, is 
indeed an extraordinary effort, for any thing equal to 
which in completeness and force the reader will in vain 
look ii) any historical detail, ancient or modern. The 
exposure is as complete as if every individual me nber 
of the fearful machine, however minute, was directly 
under his eye. It is the finished piece of dissection of a 
wonderful political anatomist, who not merely traces the 
broad outline, the external figure and features of his sub- 
ject^ but whose knife penetrates to the heart, and whose 
saw bares even the sensorium of this great moral monster, 
displaying the whole of its secret workings, motives, and 
principles, the causes of its inflammatory temperament 
and morbid vigour. 

Nothing is more remarkable in these letters than the 
prophetic truths which they contain. He wrote under 
an impression that his death was not far distant : " What- 
ever I write," he observes, " is in its nature testamentary; 
whether for thought or for action I am at the end of my 
career ;" he leaves them as a species of political will for 
the use of those whom he was so soon to quit for ever, 
and the literal fulfilment of his predictions -frem part of ^}^ 
their remarkable features. He declares positively, at a 
inoment when a general belief prevailed to the contrary, 
that no peace could or would take place ; that it vvould 
not happen during his life. " I shall not live to behold 
the unravelling of the intricate plot which saddens and 
perplexes the awful drama of Providence now acting on 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 407 

the moral theatre of the world ;" that our trials were only 
commencing, " we are not at an end of our strugsjle, nor 
near it ; let us not deceive ourselves ; we are at the be- 
ginning of great troubles" — that it was not merely una- 
voidable to continue the war for the present, but it would 
be a long -war; and alluding to former contests, even 
hints at its continuance for a period of twenty years — ■ 
with what surprising prescience on all these points it is 
unnecessary to repeat. Of the partition of Poland, which 
he had never ceased to reprobate, he says, " Hereafter 
the world will have cause to rue this iniquitous measure, 
and they most who were most concerned in it.'^ VVho on 
reading this, will not bring to remembrance the calami- 
ties and degradations so long sustained by Austria, Prus- 
sia, and Russia (particularly the former two,) the actors 
in that spoliation, under the iron gripe of Bonaparte ? Is 
it quite clear, notwithstanding the present calm, that the 
measure of retribution is full ? Dying words have often 
been remarked to be impressive things, and not unfre- 
quently true ; and indeed if men are ever for a moment 
permitted by the Almighty to have the slightest degree 
l^foreknowledge, it is near the termination of life, when 
Me mind, almost abstracted from its tottering tenement, 
and in some degree purified from temporal interests and 
passions, forms the most correct and unprejudiced e^5ti-. 
mate of surrounding circumstances, of what is, and per- 
haps of what is to come. The sentiments of ordinary 
men at such times are worth serious consideration. But 
those of a great man, such as in th^ instance before us, 
distinguished through life for the possession of much wis- 
dom and knowledge, claim no inconsiderable portion of 
our reverence and regard.. 

It has been already observed, that though a firm advo- 
cate for war as the less evil to which the country was ex- 



408 LIFE OF THL 

posed, he condemned almost unifcrn^y, after the first 
year, the manner in which it was conducted ; that it was 
most unfortunate is true ; but though this seems to cor- 
robotate Mr. Burke's judgment, it by no means decides 
the question against its conductors. There were other 
difi'erences, however, in his and Mr. Pitt's views, which 
seem also to tell in favour of the superior sagacity of the 
former, and as they bore on what have since proved some 
of the leading points of the contest, may be worth enu- 
merating. Mr. Burke, from a very ^arly period in its 
progress, declared that it would be an arduous and a long 
war. Mr. Pitt, on the contrary, not only publicly in the 
House of Commons, but at his own fireside, at his own 
table, and in the most unreserved manner to his confiden- 
tial friends, maintained that the war would be short, and 
the superiority on our part not doubtful. Mr. Burke, 
from the moment of the declaration of hostilities, wished 
to see the integrity of the French territory preserved sa- 
cred and inviolate, as necessary to the equilibrium of Eu- 
rope. Mr. Pitt, from the circumstances attending the 
surrender of her first towns to the Allies, pretty plainly 
intimated some intention of permitting her to be disme;^^ 
bered, and this is said to have been the first thing tfflir 
thoroughly roused her indignation. Mr. Burke wished 
to have it perfectly understood in France, that the war 
w as levelled at the faction w hich governed her, not against 
the nation. Mr. Piit thought it unnecessary or useless 
to be precise in the distinction. Mr. Burke urged that 
from the peculiar nature of the contest France should be 
attacked only in France, and that frittering away our 
force against her colonies, and even reducing them one 
after another, neither crippled her in the slightest degree, 
nor in point of fact advanced a step nearer to subduing 



KIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 109 

her.* Mr. Pitt evidently attributed an importance to 
these conquests which events by no means authorised. 

At the conclusion of the struggle we have seen all Mr. 
Burke's opinions verified or followed to the letter. The 
war proved trying and long beyond precedent. France 
to be overpowered was obliged to be attacked in France. 
The allied Sovereigns had to come forward and declare 
that they made war not upon her, but upon her ruler, (the 
old root of jacobin aggression which had sprouted afresh 
in the form of an Emperor.) And v\ ith some hundred 
thousands of men at their backs, they found it necessary 
explicitly to come forward, and to guarantee the strict in- 
tegrity of her territory before they could hope to succeed, 

*' Nothing is more notorious," said Mr. Burke in his 
last political paper,f dictated about two months before his 
death, " than that I have the misfortune of thinking that 
no one capital measure relative to political arrangements, 
and still less that a new military plan for the defence of 
either kingdom (alluding to Ireland) in this arduous war, 
has been taken upon any other principle than such as must 
conduct us to inevitable ruin." Mr. Windham constantly 
supported his views, but is understood to have been out- 
voted by the other Members of Ministry. 

* He disliked more particularly the expensive and destructive 
West India expeditions, and with some reason. — " A remote, an 
expensive, a murderous, and in the end an unproduciive adven- 
ture, carried on upon ideas of mercantile knight-errantry, with- 
out any of the generous wildness of Quixotism., is considered as 
sound, solid sense ; and a war in a wholesome climate, a war at 
our door, a war directly on the enemy, a war in the heart of his 
country, a war in concert with an internal ally, and in combina- 
tion with the external, is regarded as folly and romance*"— -Let- 
ter l£. on Regicide Peace, vol. viii. p. 232, 8vo, ed. 

t Burke's Works, vol. ix. p. 455. 

3 F 



410 Lit'E OF THit: 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Report cojicerning Mr, Burke. — Decline of his Health."-— 
Letter to Mrs, Leadbeater. — H\s death and disposal of 
his Residence and Estate. — His person. — Conversation, 
— TFit. — Piety. — Moral Character. — Zeal in Public 
Measures. 

The sagacity which enabled Mr. Burke to penetrate 
the unhappy results in the train of the French Revolution, 
and the consequent energy and pertinacity with which he 
opposed it both in speaking and in v\riting, excited among 
many persons who had not the same length of view as 
himself, and indeed no conception whatever of the evils 
impending, a variety of conjectures as to the cause. At 
first they were merely surprised at the boldness of his 
predictions ; but when the breach took place with his 
party for what they thought merely speculative differences 
of opinion, they put him down as in some degree insane, 
an idea wltich was afterwards industnousl}/ circulated, 
and to which he partly alluded, after a vehement sally in 
the House of Commons, by a deliberate address to the 
chair in the words of St. Paul, " I am not mad, most no- 
ble Festus, but speak the words of truth and soberness.'^ 
With those who found an interest in decrying his public 
extrrtions the rumour was frequently renewed, particularly 
after the death of his son, when his grief was known to 
be extreme ;'aftd it sometimes had the effect even of im- 
pusii.g up '^n his friends, an instance of which occurred 
soon afier the publication of the Letter to a Noble Lord. 

A report, under the guise of seeming precaution and 
secrecy, reached them in to, vni that he was afflicted with 
such total alienation of mind as to wander about his park 



BIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 411 

during the day, kissing his cows and horses, a circum- 
stance which, if true, would be no more than is daily done 
by many honest fcirmersand stable boys, without any im- 
putation of a wandering of the wits, and which with Mr. 
Burke's warm affection toward the dumb as well as the 
speaking members of his estabUshment would have been 
no great matter for wonder, he having in fact some fa- 
vourite cows* who chiefly grazed near the house. A man 
of rank, however, left London instantly to learn the par- 
ticulars, and was received in the usual manner of an old 
friend without observing any perceptible change ; not 
quite satisfied with this, yet deeming it indecorous to ask 
questions on the subject, he adverted in conversation to 
public circumstances, and to the probable train of any 
new studies by his host, when the latter, unsuspicious of 
the drift of the visitor, produced some of the most elo- 
quent and ably argued passages which he was then writing 
from the Letters on Regicide Peace. Convinced now of 
his information being erroneous, if not malicious, he hint- 
ed to Mrs. Burke the main purport of his journey, when 
he received the detail of the following singular and affect- 
ing incident, which probably formed the foundation for the 
story, though it had thriven marvellously in the journey 
from Beaconsfield to London. 

A feeble old horse, which had been a great favourite 
with the junior Mr. Burke, and his constant companion 
in all rural journeyings and sports, when both were alike 
healthful and vigorous, was now, in his age and on the death 
of his master, turned out to take the run of the park for the 
remainder of his life at ease, with strict injunctions to the 

* A pretty piece, by Reinagle, delineating the house and 
grounds, represents Mr. Burke in front of the mansion patting a 
favourite cow, and his lady and a female friend walking at a lit- 
tle distance. 



41S LIFE OF THE 

servants that he should neither be ridden nor molested by 
any one. While walking one day in solitary musing, Mr, 
Burke perceived this worn out old servant come close up 
to him, and at length after some moments spent in view- 
ing him,folloued by seeming recollection and confidence, 
deliberately rested its head upon his bosom. The singu- 
larity of the action itself, the remembrance of his dead 
son, its late master, v\ho occupied much of his thoughts 
at all times, and the apparent attachment and almost in- 
telligence of the poor brute, as if it could sympathise with 
his inward sorrows, rushing at once into his mind, totally 
overpowered his firmness, and throwing his arms over 
its neck he wept long and loudly. 

His health, however, though not his intellectual powers^ 
had been for some time in a verv declining state, until it 
terminated in a degree of general debility and loss of mus- 
cular power v\hich rendered exertion and his usual de- 
gree of exercise impracticable. To this state of unex- 
pected at least, if not premature, decay, his habits of ap- 
plication, literary pursuits, and former laborious Parlia- 
mentary exertions, tended, when his frame, shaken by 
the loss of his son, and his mind losing that buoyancy 
which his fond paternal hopes had inspired, left no active 
pouer or principle to counteract the inroads of infirmity ; 
that blow he found it impossible to forget or to recover, 
and from that moment he comi)lained of being "a de- 
jected old man, buried in the anticipated grave of a fee- 
ble old age.'' Those who did not know his disposition, 
fancied he sustained much annoyance from the numerous 
attacks of the partizans of the French opinions, who in- 
deed possessed many of the strong holds of the press, and 
to wh ch the letters on Regicide Peace proved a new sti- 
mulus for renewed hostility. This however was not the 
case; the writings of the lower class of opponents he rare- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 413 

ly saw and never heeded ; the attacks cjf the higher, in 
the way of argument, he answered and refuted; the mere 
abuse of either he despised. Of the latter, an instance 
occurred about this time which furnishes a pretty good 
sample of the justice with which he was commonly as- 
sailed ; for a heebooting bookseller finding himself pre- 
vented from appropriating to his own use the literary pro- 
perty of this eminent man, contrived to give vent to vul- 
gar insolence by an abusive advertisement against " Ed- 
mund Burke the Pensioner." The same person used to 
say, that Mr. Burke had fairly frighted his printers from 
going near him, on account of being rated for their mis- 
takes with vehemence and variety of invective; not one 
at length would venture to approach his house, and there- 
fore he was obliged to carry the proofs for revision him- 
self. 

Finding medical aid of little avail, Mr. Burke proceed- 
ed to Bath early in February, 1797, for the benefit of the 
waters, which in early life had proved so beneficial. Here 
he continued for about four months confined to his bed 
or to his couch the greater part of the time ; " My 
health," said he, in a letter dictated at the time, " has 
gone down very rapidly ; and I have been brought hither 
with very faint hopes of life, and enfeebled to such a de- 
gree, as those who had known me some time ago could 
scarcely think credible." I'his letter, vvhich was on the 
affairs of Ireland, in reply to one addressed to him from 
that country, though dictated by snatches amidst pain and 
suffering, enforces with little diminution of force the same 
wise policy toward healing her internal divisions, vvhich 
he had always advised, but which still remains to be com- 
pleted ; he hints at something like the Union, by urging 
that the seat of her superior or imperial politics should be 
in England ; Ireland is hurt, he says, not by too much 



ii4 LIFE OF THE 

English, but by too much Irish influence.— This was his 
last effort on a political subject. 

The day befijre he quitted Bath, the following letter 
was dictated to Mrs. Leadbeater, and signed by his tre- 
mulous hand; it. was among the last dispatched of his 
private letters : 

" My dear Mrs. Leadbeater, 

" I feel as I ought to do your constant hereditary kind- 
ness to me and mine. What you have heard of my 
illness is far from exaggerated. I am, thank God, alive, 
and that is all. Hastening to my dissolution, I have to 
bless Providence that I do not suffer a great deal of 
nam. ■5!^ 'f^ ■^ '•^ ^ 

*' Mrs. Burke has a tolerable share of health in every 
respect, except much use of her limbs. She remembers 
your mother's most good-natured attentions, as I am sure 
I do, with much gratitude. I have ever been an admirer 
of vour talents and virtues, and shall ever vvish most cor- 
dially for every thing which can tend to your credit and 
satisfaction. I therefore congratulate you very heartily 
on the birth of your son ; and pray remember me to the 
representative of your family, who I hope still keeps up 
the school of which I have so tender a remembrance; 
though after so long an absence, and so many unpleasant 
events of every kind that have distracted my thoughts, I 
hardly dare to ask for any one, not knowing whether they 
are living or dead, lest I should be the means of awaken- 
ing unpleasant recollections. Believe me to be, with the 
most respectful and aflTectionate regards, my dear Mrs. 
Leadbeater, " Your faithful friend, 

" And very humble servant, 

" Edmund Burke." 
'' Bath, 23d May, 1797. 



SIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 415 

" P. S. Pray remember me to Mr. Leadbeater. I 
have been at Bath these four months to no purpose, and 
am therefore to be removed to my own house at Bea- 
consfield to-morrow, to be nearer to a habitation more 
permanent, humbly and fearfully hoping that my better 
part may find a better mansion." 

There is something very touching in the mild and 
cheerful tone of this resignation to the divine will, in the 
allusions to his residence being so near to his final resting- 
place (Beaconsfield Church), and the release of his spirit 
from its infirm and fragile earthly inclosure to a state of 
more perfect freedom. Of this letter the late Bishop of 
Meath justly observed in a communication to the lady to 
whom it is addressed ; " The great scene on which Pro- 
vidence gifted and allotted him to move was now closing; 
and no record can ever be produced to mark the leading 
features of his character so strongly as that you possess 
in this letter. It shows him still cherishing the early 
affections of his heart, among the higher cares which the 
station he had attained imposed upon him; and after 
having controlled the destinies of the world, as all now 
agree he did, by his later writings, turning his last thoughts 
to the retired, unassuming daughter of the friend of his 
youth.'** To Beaconsfield, therefore, where he had 
enjoyed so many of the honours and comforts of life, he 
returned to die ; for there is something of satisfaction to 
the human heart in breathing our last and in depositing 
our bones in the spot where we have spent the most 
honourable and usef .1 part of Our being; " It is so far at 
least," said he to some one just before quitting Bath, 

* Poems by Mary Leadbeater, p. S23. 



416 LIFE OF THE 

" on my way to the tomb, and I may as well travel it 
alive as dead.'' 

While waiting the event which was delaved for a 
month longer, he gave directions about the disposal cf 
some of his papers, particQUlj"ly desiring that the chief 
of those relating to the impeachment should be published, 
repeating the same opinion of the whole proceeding uhich 
he had always expressed. Public affairs occupied much 
of his thoughts to the last moment; " Never,'' said he, 
" succumb to the enemy ; it is a struggle for your exis- 
tence as a nation ; and if you must die, die with the sword 
in your hand ; but I have no fears whatever for the result; 
there is a salient, living principle of energy in the public 
mind of England which only requires proper direction to 
enable her to withstand this or any other ferocious foe ; 
persevere till this tyranny be overpast." To his own 
increasing weakness he submitted with the same placid 
and christian like resignation undisturbed by a murmur; 
hoping, as he said, to obtain the divine mercy through 
the intercession of a blessed Redeemer, which, in his 
own words, " he had long sought with unfeigned humi- 
liation, and to which he looked with a trembling hope." 

A presentiment almost of the moment of the final sum- 
mons from the world seemed to have prevailed with 
him; for several of the previous hours were employed in 
sending messages of affectionate remembrance to absent 
friends, in expressing his forgiveness of all vvho had in 
any manner injured or offended him, and in requesting 
the same from all whom his general or particular infirmi- 
ties had offended. He recapitulated his motives of action 
in great public emergencies, his then thoughts on the 
alarming state of the country, *' the ruling passion even 
in death," gave some private directions connected with 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 417 

his approaching decease, and afterwards listened atten- 
tively to the perusal, by his own desire, of some serious 
papers of Addison on relii^ious subjects and ori the im- 
mortality of the soul. These duties finished, his atten- 
dants, with Mr. Nagle of the war-office, a relation, were 
conveying him to his bed, when, indistinctly articulating 
a blessing on those around him, he sunk down and after 
a momentary struggle expired, July 8th, 1797, in the 
sixty eighth year of his age. " His end," said Dr. Law- 
rence with great truth, " was suited to the simple great- 
ness of mind which he displayed through life, every way 
unaffected, without levity, without ostentation, full of 
natural grace and dignity. He appeared neither to wish 
nor to dread, but patiently and placidly to await the ap- 
pointed hour of his dissolution." " When I have revolved 
his various labours," writes the author of the Pursuits of 
Literature after an animated apostrophe to his memory, 
" I would record in lasting characters and in our holiest 
and most honourable temple, the departed orator of Eng- 
land, the statesman, and the christiiin, Edmund Burke !" 
" Remuneratio ejus Cum Altissimo /"* 

When examined after death, his heart was found to 
be preternaturally enlarged, affording some confirmation 
to the belief, if the common idea of the sympathy between 

* " Of Burke it may be truly said, that if any man were cal- 
culated to claim universal attention, it was he. His stupendous 
variety of knowledge, his command of language, his taste, his 
power of expressing the finest ideas that could enter the mind 
of any human being, rendered him, in the opinion of all who 
could appreciate his excellence, and, among the rest, of Johnson 
himself, the first man of the time in which he lived ; and as long 
as eloquence will charm, his works will hold a place among the 
most valuable productions of human genius." 

Miss Hawkins's Memoirs, 
3 G 



418 LIFE OF THE 

the heart and the aft'ections of the mind have any fbiinda 
tion in fact, that grief for the loss of his son killed him. 
On the lodi he was buried according to his direction in 
Beaconsfield Church, near to his brother and son, and 
where also his wife has been subsequently laid; the pall- 
bearers being the Duke of Portland, Duke of Devonshire, 
the Lord Chancellor, the Speaker of the House of Com- 
mons, Earl Fitzuilliam, Earl of Inchiquin, Sir Gilbert 
Elliott, and Mr. Windham. All the gentry of the sur- 
rounding country, and many of rank, consideration, and 
talents, from town, attended to pay the last mark of re- 
spect to his remains; and not the least sincere mourners 
on the occasion were many of the poorer classes in the 
neighbourhood, whose expressions of grief and regret 
paid that tribute to the virtues of the philanthropist which 
their superiors chiefly awarded to the statesman. All 
the neighbouring pulpits also oftered their tribute of praise 
to his memory ; the periodical publications also furnished 
several vv&ll- written testimonies of the same sort; while 
Mr. Fox proposed in the House of Commons that he 
should be interred in the national receptacle for illustrious 
talents, Westminster Abbey — an honour, however, which 
he was informed the terms of the will of the deceased 
precluded. The writer has been informed from authority 
he cannot question, that this fact was communicated to 
Mr. Fox previous to hjs proposition being made in the 
House, and the inference drawn by some of Mr. Burke's 
friends was, that as he knew the proposal could not be 
complied with, he introduced it to preserve a seeming 
show of liberality towards his memory which he did not 
in reality feel. This it is to be hoped is a mistake, or at 
least an erroneous conclusion. But it is true that the 
reply of Mr. Fox to a letter of Mr. Nagle, v\ ho wrote 
oft' to him an account of the decease of Mr. Burke soou 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 119 

after it took place, and detailingj some particulars of the 
conversation which preceded it, was a cold common- 
place. 

l^'he disinclination to posthumous honours expressed 
in the will, though characteristic of his unpretending cha- 
racter, is an instance of self-denial which is rarely exhi- 
bited by men the most unassuming in public life ; rank 
and money may be refused, but honorary offerings to our 
fame, the speaking brass and marble and inscription, form 
another and more highly -prized species of public reward. 
His reason for adverting to the subject he expresses to 
be '* because I know the partial! kindness to me of some 
of my friends ; but I have had in my life but too much 
of noise and compliment." The first clause in this tes- 
tamentary document marks in a manner equally striking, 
his piety, and his attachment to his departed kindred : 
*' According to the ancient, good, and laudable custom 
of which my heart and understanding recognise the pro- 
priety, I bequeath my soul to God, hoping for his mercy 
only through the merits of our Lord and Saviour Jesus 
Christ. My body I desire to be buried in the Church at 
Beaconsfield, near to the bodies of my dearest brother and 
my dearest son, in all humility praying that as we have 
lived in perfect unity together, we may together have a 
part in the resurrection of the just.-' His brother in-law, 
John Nugent, he bequeaths to the protection of his poli- 
tical friends ; and to his '* entirely beloved and incompa- 
rable wife, Jane Mary Burke," the whole of his property 
in fee-simple. A plain tablet in the church, in accord- 
ance with his direction, simply expresses that his mortal 
remains lie there. 

Mrs. Bjrke continued to reside at Butler's Court, vi- 
sited and esteemed by all her husband's friends, among 
whom Mr. and Mrs. Windham were pariiculerly atten- 



'420 LIFE OF THE 

tive, till her death, in the spring of 1812, havinc^ previ- 
ousl\ , in a great degree, lost the use of her limbs through 
rheumatism. In 1800 she is said to have published a 
novel, in two volumes ; " Elliott, or Vicissitudes of Early 
Life;" to which her name is now put, though her friends 
believe it to be not her ovvn, but the production of a fe- 
male acquaintance for whom, from a benevolent motive, 
she corresponded with the publisher (Cawthorn) on the 
subject of bringing it out. Some time previous to her 
dei^th she sold the mansion and estate near Beaconsfield 
to Mr. Dupre of Wilton Park, reserving, however, a life 
interest and for one year after her death in the house and 
grounds, for 38,500/., which, after clearing off incum- 
brances, fell to her own relations — the Nugent family. 
Mr. Burke's brothers, it has been remarked, died nith- 
out issue. But a daughter and the only child of his sis- 
ter Julia (who as already stated had married Patrick 
French, Esq. of the county of Galway, in Ireland) lived 
with her uncle at Beaconsfield, after the death of her pa- 
rents, till united in marriage with Major Haviland, son 
of General Haviland, one of the companions of General 
Wolfe in America — a most honourable and high spirited 
old soldier, who became known and highly esteemed by 
his late Majesty through some anecdotes told of his ro- 
mantic generosity, and of whom Mr. Burke used to say 
he knew few men, who had not been professedly devoted 
to study, possess more ingenuity and information.* 

* The following notice of thi\ veteran appeared in the news- 
papers at the period of his death, September, 1784: 

" Died at Penn, in Buckinghainsliire, in the 67tii year of his 
age, General William Haviland, Colonel of the 4oth regiment. 
He was an officer distinguished for his long and able services, 
having spent his whole life in the army ; for, his father being an 
officer, he was born while the regiment was on duty in Ireland. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 431 

Thomas Haviland Burke, Esq. oF Lincoln's Inn, who is 
highly sp(.ken of by his friends, is the only offspring of 
this maniiige ; he is conserjtiently the grand-nephew of 

He himself acted as Lieutenant, under Lord Cathcart, at the 
memorable siege of Carthagena; and afterwards with Vernon 
at the conquest of Porto liello. He then served as Aid-du- 
camp, under General Biakeney, during the rebellion in Scotland. 
In the subsequent war, from the beginning of hostilities, he 
served in America, where he had a separate command, and by 
his exertions and success received the particular acknowledg- 
ments of Lord Amherst, who has ever since hont.ured him with 
his friendship. A singular genius for mechanics enabled him to 
concert measures for passing the Rapids; andthe fertility of his 
resources, in other unusual circumstances, made him very effi- 
cient (under his distinguished commander) in contributing to 
the success of the English aims in America. In the same war 
he acted as second in command at the conquest of Martinique, 
and in a very high one at the Havannah ; so that having had the 
good fortune through life to be placed in the most conspicuous 
scenes of action on chosen services and with the most eminent 
men, he acted in such a manner as even among them to attain a 
high reputation for courage and al)ility. When the last war 
broke out he was put on the staff, and after being a very short 
time at Whitehaven he was entruste<l with the command of the 
western division of the island during the whole time the French 
invasion was expected, and there continued till the end of the war. 
The station was important, and the service delicate; there he had 
the happiness to preserve perfect harmony between the regular 
forces and militia ; while, by the prude' t disposition of his troops 
and an exact discipline, he perff)rmed the more substantial 
functions, he maintained the dignity of his situation by a style of 
life which became the service of his sovereign. His house was 
open to the navy as well as to the army ; and the force of perso- 
nal character, which was cordial, plain, informed, and unaffected, 
did ;\iuch to facilitate the national service in a country little 
inured to the burthen of arms, and when so many principal gen- 
tlemen were drawn away from their occupations and amuse- 
ments. The same disposition followed him through life. To 



42S LIFE OF THE 

Mr;. Burke, and the only one who stands in that relation 
to him, and whose name and arms, as his nearest relation 
and the representative of the family, he has assumed. 
His father, from a sense of duty, accompanied his regi- 
ment, the 45th, to the West Indies, shortly after his mar- 
ria_^e, and died at Martinique about the time he was ga- 
zetted Colonel. Mrs. Haviland remaining at home, re- 
ceived the afflicting intelligence of being a widow shortly 
befure she became a mother; and feeling hurt, it is said> 
by the neglect of Mrs. Burke, with whom she had hved 
as a daughter, and who had promised to attend to her pe- 
cuniary interests in her will but forgot her promise, died 
at Brcjmpton v\here she resided for the benefit of her 
health, in March, 1816, at the age of 46, said to be an 
admirable woman, not unworthy of being the niece of so 
distinguished a man. The library, and all the tokens of 
regard and admiration he had received from the good and 
great of the world, were left by Mrs. Burke, with the 
bulk of her property, to her nephew Mr. Nugent; the 
pieces of sculpture which ornamented the house were 
sold by auction by Christie, and some of them now grace 
the British Museum. 

In adverting to some of the public and private charac- 
teristics of this remarkable man there will be found so 

his own regiment he was a kind father, and to the younger offi- 
cers of it his house was literally a home. The consequence how- 
ever is, that, in a long course of service, overlooking many op- 
portunities of emolument, but none of benevolence, though he 
always maintained a just economy, he has left his family in very 
narrow circumstances ; for the sole reward of his services was 
a marching regiment on the Irish establishment, which was 
bestowed upon him very late in life, and with a constitution 
harassed and broken, not less from the variety than from the 
length of his services." 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 4S3 

much to commend, that simple justice may run the risk 
of being deemed indiscriminate panet^vric. Against this 
the writer is sohcitous to guard himself by giving, in ad- 
dition to his own opinions, occasionally the opinions of 
others more competent to form a correct judgment, well 
acquainted with the original, and some of whom, being 
opposed to him on political topics, will not be suspected 
of bestowing undeserved praise. He was not merely a 
very great man, but an eminently good one, in whose 
character or conduct there will be found little which the 
most devoted admirer need be afraid to probe, little over 
which an enemy can triumph ; for his errors, whatever 
they were, chiefly arose from occasionally pushing the 
passions of virtue to excess. 

In person, he was five feet ten inches high, erect, well 
formed, never very robust ; when young, expert in the 
sports of his country and time, until his last illness active 
in habits suited to his years, and always, it scarcely need 
be added, particularly active in mind, having nothing of 
what he called " that master vice sloth''* in his composi- 
tion. His countenance in early life possessed considera- 
ble sweetness, and by his female friends was esteemed 
handsome. At a later period, it did not appear to be 
marked, particularly when in a state of quiescence, by that 
striking expression which, from the well known qualities 
of his mind, many persons expected to see ; but the lines 
of thought were evident, and when excited by discussion 
there was an occasional working of the brow, occasioned 
partly by being near sighted, which let the attentive ob- 
server into the secret of the powerful workings within. 
From this defective state of vision, he almost constantly 
from about the year 1780, wore spectacles. An Irish 
literary lady of talent — and ladies are possibly the best 



4'S4j liff. of the 

judges of these matters — \\ho enjoyed«the pleasure of his 
acquaintance, thus describes him at the age of fifiy in a 
letter to the present writer : 

*' He u as the handsomest man I recollect to have seen ; 
his stature about six feet, well made, portly, but not cor- 
pulent. His countenance was such as a painter would 
find it difficult precisely to draw (and indeed I always 
understood they C(5tTiplained of the difficulty :) its ex- 
pression frequently varyiniif, but always full of benevo- 
lence, marked, in my opinion, by strong intellect and 
softened by sensibility. * * * A full lens^th portrait of 
him hangs in the Examination Hall of Dublin University; 
the figure, features, and complexion are like his, but the 
countenance, as a whole, by no means does him justice. 
* * * He was a most delightful companion, and had 
the art of rendering the timid easy in his company. His 
conversation, which was often serious and instructive, 
abounded at other times with wit, pleasantry, and good 
humour ; whatever subject he spoke upon, and he spoke 
upon all, he excelled in, as if it had formed a particular 
study ; and his lanijjuage, though sometimes considered 
ornamented on public occasions, was distinguished by a 
fascinating simplicity, yet powerful and appropriate be- 
yond what I can tell." — Another lady, with whose hus- 
band, a relation, he occasionally spent a day in Lamb's 
Conduit- street,describes him nearly in the same terms— 
" His address frank, yet dignified ; his conversation inte- 
resting and various ; and particularly to female society, 
playful and amusing in a high degree." — The best pic- 
ture of him is that painted by Reynolds in 1775, in the 
possession of Earl FitzwiHia:^>, being bequeathed to hiin 
by Mrs. Burke. That in the University of Dublin was 
taken at a much later period of life, the face shorter than 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 4S5 

in Sir Joshua's, with something of contemplative severity 
in the expression. 

Like Mr. Fox, he was somewhat neojliorent in common 
dress, being latterly distinguished by a tight brown coat 
which seemed to impede freedom of motion, and a little 
bob wig with curls, which, in addition to his spectacles, 
made him be recognised by those who had never pre- 
viously seen him, the moment he rose to speak in the 
•House of Commons. Though an ardent lover of poetry, 
which he prized at every period of life, and latterly of 
that of Milton* in particular as furnishing the grandest 
imagery in the language; yet, contrary to the common 
idea that love for poetry and music go tot^ether, he had 
little ear for the latter ; Mr. Fox, it is known, had none 
at all ; and it has been remarked as a singular coinci- 
dence that the ears of Mr. Pitt and Dr. Johnson should 
have been equally tuneless. His address in private life 
possessed something of a chivalrous air — noble, vet un- 
affected and unreserved, impressing upon strangers of 
every rank, impel ceptibly and without eff irt, the convic- 
tion of his being a remarkable man. '^Sir," said Johnson, 
to exemplify this, " if Burke ti'ere to go into a stable to 
give directions about his horse, the ostler would say, 
* We have had an extraordinary man here.' " His man- 
ner in mixed society was unobtrusive, surrendering at 
once his desire to talk to any one. who had, or who 

* Like Johnson, Goldsmith, and many others, he had a very 
poor opinion of Ossian ; besides which, three:fourths at least, he 
said, of the pruduciions ascribed to him he considered furj;eries. 
" It was only a tri k of cool Scotch ettVonterj," he once said, 
" to try the precise ran^e of I'nglish g;iiliibility ; nothing but tliC 
blind nationality of Scotchmen themselves gave the least coun- 
tenance to the imposture." 

3 H 



42f) 



LIFE OF THE 



thought he had, the least claim to be heard : " Where a 
loud tongued talker was in company," writes Ciimber- 
land, " Edmund Burke declined all claims upon atten- 
tion." When Johnson one evening seized upon every 
topic of discourse that was started, and an auditor, after 
separating, remarked to Mr. Burke that he should have 
liked to hear more from another person, meaning him, 
*• Oh no," replied the latter, *' it is enough for me to have 
rung the bell to him." Of literary society he was ex- 
tremely fond, preferring it, more perhaps than his own 
political interests demanded, to that which was merely 
distinguished by rank and fashion; but after the deaths of 
his older friends he did not cultivate it as before. 

His conversational powers partook of the same fulness 
of mind which distinguished his eloquence ; they never 
ran dry ; the supply for the subject always exceeded the 
demand. " Burke," said Johnson, " is never what we 
call hum-drum ; never in a hurry to begin conversation, 
at a loss to carry it on, or eager to leave off." On many 
other occasions also the moralist celebrated their easy ex- 
cellence, and though in some degree of a different charac- 
ter from his own, they were not less instructive, and little 
less forcible. Among friends, his sallies of thought were 
frequently of a serious cast, sometimes philosophical, 
sometimes moral, the elevation of the sentiment com- 
monly forming a contrast to the unaffected simplicity with 
which it was delivered. A profound reflection, or great 
moral truth, often slipped from him as if by accident, 
without seeming to have cost any trouble in the elabora- 
tion ; while Johnson's throes in the delivery of bright 
thoughts were obvious, and he took care to hammer the 
offspring into his hearers. What we have of the sayings 
of Burke make us anxious for more; he has himself in- 
deed drawn up the line of battle of his genius to the pub- 



RIGHT HON EDMUND BURKE. 4^7 

lie gaze, but who does not regret that he had no Boswell 
in attendance, to note down the transient salHes of his so- 
cial hours, to collect and arrange the flying squadron of 
his brain ?* 

At table his habits were temperate, preferring the 
lighter to the stronger wines, in opposition to Johnson's 
gradation of liquors, "claret for boys, port for men, bran- 
dy for heroes ;" "then," said he, " give me claret, for I 
like to be a boy and partake of the honest hilarity of 
youth." At a later period of his life, when exhausted by 
mental exertion or attacks of indigestion, arising from 
close application, he was accustomed to take large quan- 
tities of water hot as it could be drunk ; " warm water," 
said he, *' sickens, bwlliot water stimulates." In allusion 
partly to this habit, the writer of a piece in imitation of 
" Retaliation," who applies the diftereni kinds of wine, as 
Goldsmith had done dishes, to his characters — as port to 
Johnson, champaign to Garrick, burgundy to Reynolds, 
thus says of the orator : 

To Burke a pure libation bring. 

Fresh drawn from pure Castalian spring ; 

With civic oak the goblet bind. 

Fit emblem of his patriot mind ; 

Let Clio as his taster sip, 

And Hermes hand it to his lip. 

* When Croft's Life of Dr. Young was spoken of as a good 
imitation of Johnson's style, " No, no,'' said he, " it is not a good 
imitation of Johnson ; it has all his pomp without his force; it 
has all the nodosities of the oak without its strength ; it has all 
the contortions of the Sybil without the inspiration." 

Speaking of the new sect of philosophers of 179S, " These fel- 
lows," said he, "have a wrong twist in their heads,- which ten 
to one gives them a wrong twist in their hearts also." 

When told of Mr. Godwin's definition of gratitude in Political 
Justice, " I should take care to spare him the commission of that 



428 LIFE OF THE 

/ An amiable feature In Mr. Burke's disposition was a 
dislike to any thine; like detraction, or that insinuation 
against private character too often tolerated even tri what 
is called t^ood society, uhich, without amounting to slan- 
der, produces nearly the saine effects. When this oc- 
curred in his own house by any one with whom he was 
famihar, he would directly check it, or drop a hint to that 
efltLt ; '* NovV that yr u have begun with his defects, I 
pre^uae you mean tu tin sh with a catalo-ue of his vir- 
tues ;" and bO'netimes baid, tnough mildly, " censorious- 
ness lb allied to none ol the virtueb." When introduced 
bv others whom it might have been rude to interrupt, he 
t J /k tiie part of the accjsefl by apologies, or by urging a 
different ctMistruction on the.r actions, and, as soon as he 
could, changed the subject. 

Johnson, v\ho denied him scarcely any other talent or 
merit, would not admit that he possessed wit ; he always 
got into the mire, he said, by attempting it. Wilkes, how- 
ever, who certainly was no mean judge, thought ditlerent- 
ly ; so did B(>swell ; so did Mr. Windham ; so did Mr. 
Courtenay, himself a wit, who thus commences an ode 
addressed to Mr. Malone, from Bath — 

Whilst you illumine Shakspeare's page, 
And dare the future critic's rage. 

Or on the past refine ; 
Here many an eve 1 pensive sit. 
No Burke pours out the stream of wily 

]No Boswell joys o'er wiue. 

vice by never conferring upon him a favour." — " Swaggering 
paradoxes," he added, "when examined, often sneak into pitiful 
logomachies." 

Of reasoning upon political theories, he observed, "The ma- 
jors make a pompous figure in the battle, but the victory of truth 
depends upon the little wmor of ciccumstances." 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 4S9 

The same opinion was entertained by successive Houses 
of Commons tor many years, and from those Members— 
and diey were no small numbervvho smarted under its 
lash' — there ufere frequent exGlamatibris against what they 
termed "the wantonness of his Vvit and the licentiousness 
of his eloquence," — a quality which, as an auxiliary in 
debate, when under prudent management, and subservient 
to something more solid, he found very effective ; Lord 
North was in this respect his only competitor, and Mr. 
Sheridan afterwards his only superior. Mr. Pitt, u hen 
he had no more effectual answer to give to his keener sal- 
lies, which was not unfrequendy the case, used to term 
them " the overflowings of a mind, the richness of wh6se 
wit was unchecked for the time by its wisdom;" and an 
able anonymoiis writisr, during the American war, among 
other distinguishing characteristics of his mind, particu- 
larly points to his " sarcastic wit." For Johnson's re- 
mark, hf)vvever, there was some foundation in occasional 
fits of punning, to which he gave <yay round the social ta- 
ble among intimate friends, in order, as he said, to amuse 
the ladies ; and these were sometimes so indifferent as to 
draw down smart rallies -from his niece, Miss French, 
with " Really, uncle, that is very poor." " There now, 
you have quite spoiled it; we expected something bet- 
ter ;" but there was some little malicious pleasure even 
in his failures ; for the less credit he gained by his efforts, 
the more he was accustomed to smile at the disappoint- 
ment of those who were in expectation of hearing some- 
thing vf^ry fine. His main strength in conversation, how- 
ever, did not lie, like Johnson's, so much in cutting re- 
partee, as in a more pla\ ful cast of jocularity, though by 
no means destitute of puns^ency ; sometmies quaint and 
humorous, sometmies coarse enough, frequendy of clas- 
sical origin or allusion, as several of the specimens pre- 



4-30 LIFE OF THE 

served by Boswell evince, but without the biting severity 
of the iexico_G;rapher which he characterised on one occa- 
sion very promptly and happily in reply to Dr. Robert- 
son the historian, who observing that Johnson's rebukes 
were but righteous oil which did not break the head ; 
" Oil !" replied" Mr. Burke, "oil of vitriol !"* 

A much higher feature of his character was a fervent 
and unfeigned spirit of piety, cheerful but humble, un- 
allied to any thing like faniticism, expressive of a deep 
dependence on the dispensations of Providence, traces of 
which are to be found in the letters of his boyhood : for 
having been early taught to study the sacred volume with 
reverence, an intimate acquaintance with its lessons and 

* When his friend the Rev. Mr. Marlay was appointed to the 
Deanery of Ferns, "1 do not like the name," said he, "it sounds 
so like a barren title ; it might be a subject for contest between 
Dr. Heath and Dr. Moss^^ 

Alluding to livings, he observed that Horace had a good one 
in view, in speaking of — Est modus in rebus sunt certi denique 
fines; which he translated " a modus in the tythes and fines cer- 
tain." 

When some one inquired whether the Isle of Man was worth 
a journey thither to see, " By all means," said Mr. Burke, "the 
proper study of mankind is manP 

Boswell, when trying to give a definition of man, called him 
a cooking animal ; " Your definition is good,'' replied Mr. Burke, 
"I now see the full force of the common proverb, 'there is rea- 
son in the roasting of eggs.' " 

When the same industrious chronicler was describing some 
learned ladies assembled around, and vying in attention to, a 
worthy and tall friend of theirs (Johnson,) " Ay," said Mr. 
Burke, "like maids round a may-pole." 

In allusion to the chairing of Mr. Wilkes, he applied to it 
Horace's description of Pindar's numbers, ' Fertur numeris lege 
solutis,^ altering the second word to humeris ; he (Wilkes) is 
carried on shoulders uncontrolled by law. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 431 

phraseology rested on his mind, and may be seen in his 
subsequent writings and speeches sometimes to a fault. 
In the great trial of his fortitude, the loss of his son, the 
most affecting lamentations are accompanied by confes- 
sions of his weakness, the vanity of his desires, and what- 
ever he might wish or think to the contrary, the superior 
wisdom of the Divine decree. He preferred the Church 
of England to all others, as on the whole the most pure 
and estimable ; like Johnson, he viewed the Roman Ca- 
tholics with more favour than many others were inclined 
to show them ; and going still farther than him, professed 
strong regard for the dissenters, from which, if he ever 
swerved for a moment, it was in 1790 — 1792, when the 
leaders of that body sunk the character of ministers of 
religion in that of violent and very questionable politicians. 
His moral character stood wholly unimpeached by any 
thing that approached to the name of vice. " The un- 
spotted innocence, the firm integrity of Burke," said Dr. 
Parr, " want no emblazoning, and if he is accustomed to 
exact a rigorous account of the moral conduct of others 
[in public matters,) it is justified in one who shuns not the 
most inquisitorial scrutiny into his own." Unlike some 
of his greatest contemporaries, he made neither the botde 
nor the dice his household deities ; he had no taste for 
pursuits that kill time rather than pass it; ''I have no 
time," said he, *' to be idle." In the country the morn- 
ings, often at an early hour, were devoted to agricultural 
pursuits ; in to>vn to study, literary composition, or poli- 
tical business, bending his way in the afternoon to the 
House of Commons, whence he returned on the termi- 
nation of business, sometimes to literary society, more 
frequently fatigued and occasionally fretted, to the sooth- 
ing comforts of his own fire-side. " No wonder," said 
he jocularly on some occasions, " that my friend Charles 



'i3;2 Liyi: op 'lul 

(Fox) is so oiten more vigorous than I in the House, for 
when I call upon him in my way thither, jaded bv the 
occupations of the day, there he is, just out of bed, break- 
fasting at three o'clock, fresh and unexhausted, for the 
contentions of the evening." The same aftectionate dis- 
position which Mr. Shackleton remarked in the boy, 
continued through life in the domestic relations of the 
man ; his duties there might be said in a peculiar degree 
to be his pleasures ; and one of the best proofs of it was 
the cordial attachment and unanimity prevailing in a large 
family connexion,, of which he formed the centre. He 
never forgot an old friend or an obligation, often lament- 
ing that his short tenure of power precluded the possibi- 
lity of giving substantial proofs of his regard. His phi- 
lanthropy, which frequently drew praises from his politi- 
cal antagonists, was often appealed to by numerous beg- 
ging letters, sometimes requiring a large portion of the 
morning to peruse and answer; and his exertions for 
some of the superior class of applicants, such as literary 
men and others, were occasionally repaid with gross in- 
gratitude. His hospitality was always greater than his 
means ; at no time did he appear to more advantage than 
when doing the honours of his house and table. 

The Rev. Mr. Crabbe, who was well acquainted with 
him, adds his testimony to that of many others — " Of 
hib private worth, of his wishes to do good ; of his affa- 
bility and condescension ; his readiness to lend assistance 
where he knew it was wanted ; and his delight to give 
praise where he thought it was deserved." " All know," 
continues he, "that his powers were vast, his acquire- 
ments various, and I take leave to add, that he applied 
them with unremitted attention to those objects which 
he believed tended to the honour and w elt'are of his coun° 
try ; but it may not be so generally understood that he 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 43S 

Was very assiduous in the more private duties oF a be- 
nevolent nature; that he deli^ijhted in giving encourage- 
ment to any promise of ability, and assistance to any 
appearance of desert. To what purposes he emploved 
his pen, and with what eloquence he spake in the senate, 
uili be told by many, who yet may be ignorant of the 
solid instruction as well as the fascinating pleasantry 
found in his common conversation a nong his friends ; 
and his affectionate manners, amiable disposition, and 
zeal for their happiness, whi'h he manifested in the hours 
of retirement with his family." 

With something of the temperament of his country, 
his resentments were warm and open, though placable ; 
the instances, however, uere few in number, for during 
a long and most tempestuous public life, he conciliated 
the esteem of his chief opponents, nor is it remembered 
that he uas engaged with any of them in one hostile per- 
sonal squabble. It has been said, with gross perversion 
of the truth, that he bore ill-will toward Mr. Fox after 
their quarrel. So far is this from being the case, that 
though freely condemning his politics, he spoke of him 
otherwise among his private friends with affection, by 
saying, " he was a man made to be loved ; there was not 
a particle of gall in his composition," and in one of his 
last publications, with an evident allusion to him, writes, 
" Some of my oldest friends (and I wish 1 could say it of 
more of them) make a part in that Ministry. There are 
some indeed, ' whom my dim eyes in vain explore.' In 
my mind a greater calamity could not have fallen on the 
public than the exclusion of one of them.^^ He valued 
himself, he said, ioi the regard that gentleman had once 
prr-fessed for him, and felt proportional regret on its ces- 
sation. 

Not one of the least merits of Mr. Burke was in being 

3 I 



434< LIFE UF THE 

SO perfectly free from any thing like envy or jealousy of 
contemporary talent, as often to surrender to others during 
the first sixteen years of his Parliamentary life, the repu- 
tation of constitutional measures which he not only sug- 
gested but chiefly achieved. The Nullum Tempus act, 
the Jury bill, the first relief to the Roman Catholics, and 
many others, were of this class. It may appear strange, 
or a very unusual effort of generosity, that any one should 
do this to a certain degree in his own wrong, by with- 
holding from himself to bestow on others that which was 
calculated to ensure honest and undisputed fame ; but 
the fact was he always looked to the success of his party ; 
others regarded that which was chiefly personal to them- 
selves. He alludes with some satisfaction in the notice 
of his political career* to have *' reserved nothing for 
himself," to have awarded to everyone " a full and heaped 
measure of justice," "to have disciplined to the best of 
his power all the talents he met with for the advantage of 
the public service." To this discipline, this teaching, 
prompting, and example, Mr. Fox owed no small share 
of his fame, and on four different occasions in the House 
of Commons he himself had the candour to confess that 
to these he owed it all. 

The greatest defect of Mr. Burke approached so near 
to what is often a virtue that it is sometimes difficult to 
draw the line between them. It was a heat or ardour of 
temperament which by meeting with much opposition in 
pursuing a measure that he had once satisfied himself 
was right, sometimes in its support became zeal, some- 
times irritability, sometimes passion. " Exquisite pow- 
ers," writes Lord Buchan in a Letter to Bonomi the 
artist, in allusion partly to Mr. Burke, " has its root in 

* Letter to a Noble Lord. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 43& 

exquisite sensibility." And this peculiar sensitiveness 
of genius has been so often noted one of its marked fea- 
tures, that perhaps we are scarcely at liberty to lament 
what appears to possess some occult connexion with its 
very excellence. Frequent observation proves, that some 
of the strongest minds are under the dominion of very 
powerful feelings and passions, and by the stimulus which 
these supply to the reason, enable it to accomplish much 
which minds equally great, without such strong excite- 
ments, would be unable or afraid to attempt. Thus Me- 
lancthon never could have done the work of Luther, Cal- 
vin, or Knox. Thus Mr. Fox or Mr. Pitt, in all proba- 
bility, could not have excited the public mind on the 
American war as Mr. Burke by the variety of his powers 
and passions excited it ; it is almost certain that they 
could never have rendered popular the trial of Mr. Hast- 
ings, as was done at least for a time by him ; it is un- 
questionable that il was iioc wkhiii ihc idiigcof the puvvers 
of either, singly to influence the nation as he influenced 
it on the question of the French Revolution. Men con- 
stituted like him are peculiarly cut out by nature for im- 
portant and trying exigencies. He has a remark himself 
somewhere, that *' a vigorous mind is as necessarily ac- 
companied with violent passions as a great fire with great 
heat." " Strong passion," said he at another time, and 
the observation displays much knowledge of character, 
" under the direction of a feeble reason feeds a low fever, 
which serves only to destroy the body that entertains it. 
But vehement passion does not always indicate an infirm 
judgment. It often accompanies, and actuates, and is 
even auxiliary to a powerful understanding; and uhen 
they both conspire and act harmoniously, their fo>-ce is 
great to destroy disorder within and to repel injury from 
abroad." " No revolution (in public sentiment,) civil or 



436 LIFE OF THE 

reliejious," says Sir Gilbert Elliott, vvritin.^ in 1758 to the 
historian Robertson, *' can be accomplished without that 
degree of ardour and passion which in a later afj;e will be 
matter of ridicule to men who do not feel the occasion 
and enter into the spirit of the times." 

Useful as this peculiar frame of mind is — and nothing 
s;reat was e\er accomplished without it — it is frequently 
prejudicial when carried into the discussion of ordinary 
affairs, or the con-mon routine of opposition in the House 
of Ctimmons, as Mr. Burke himself now and then expe- 
rienced. It someti : es led him to undue warmth and 
posiliveness in matters of inferior moment, which by 
seeming to master his temper, was also believed by those 
who did not know him well to bias his judgment. To 
many who neither saw so far nor so clearly into the ten- 
dency of measures as himself, it had the appearance of 
arrogance; to many, of dictation, obstinacy, or intracti- 
bility. It gave rise not untrequently to illiberal surmises 
that he must have some personal interest in what he 
urged \\ iih so muc h heat and pertinacity ; and impaired 
the effect of his eloquence in the opposite benches of the 
body whom he had to address, by an opinion, however 
unjust, that his views at times sprang from momentary 
passion or impetuosity rather than from mature delibera- 
tio!'. Convinced in his own mind of being right, he was 
somewhat impatient of not being able to convince others 
equally soon : he did not perhaps make sufficient allow- 
ance for inferior understandings, for duller apprehensions, 
for more defective information ; or always consider that 
as even obvious truths are of slow progress among the 
mass of mankind, so p(;liticnl truth, as involving a greater 
variety of interests, is received with still more caution 
from those who do not possess power. He was early 
informed of this peculiarity in his public temperament. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 437 

and expresses an intention to amend it so far back as 
1777 : the passai^e which is remarkable for advisint^ Mr. 
Fox to beware of the same error, is contained in the let- 
ter written to him to Ireland — " I remember some years 
ago when I was pressing some points with great eager- 
ness and anxiety, and complaining with great vexation 
to the Dtike of Richmond of the little progress I made, 
he told me kindly, and I believe very truly, that though 
he was far from thinking so himself, other people could 
not be persuaded I had not some latent private interest in 
pushing these matters, which I urged with an earnest- 
ness so extreme and so much approaching to passion. 
He was certainly in the right. I am thoroughly resolved 
to give both to myself and to my friends less vexa- 
tion on these subjects than hitherto I have done ;' much 
less Indeed. If you should grow too earnest, you will 
be still more inexcusable than I was. Your having en- 
tered into affairs so much younger oui^ht to make them 
too familiar to you to be the cause of much agitation." 
On another occasion he adverted in the House to his pe- 
culiarity — " an earnest and anxious perseverance of mind 
which with all its good and all its evil effrcts is moulded 
into my nature.'' In private life it was never offensive, 
and only visible when employed in pushing the interests 
of his friends or in the duties of human.ty. 



438 LIFE OF THE 



CHAPTER XV. 



Contemporary Opinions entertained of Mr. Burke. — His 
Eloquence. — His JFritings. — His leading Principles as 
a Statesman. — Mr. Burke, Mr. Fox, Mr. Pitt. 

OPINIONS FORMED OF MR. BURKE. 

In adverting to a few of the features which particu- 
larly marked the mind of this eminent man, there are to 
be found in them peculiarities which distinguish him 
from most others ; qualities which are almost inconsis- 
tent with each other, or which have been so seldom con- 
joined in any one person as to be thought inconsistent ; 
a variety almost unbounded, a brilliancy which imposes 
upon the imagination, a solidity which convinces the 
judgment, a fancy singularly excursive in pursuit of strik- 
ing and alluring figures, the presents of genius to the 
service of persuasion and truth, and a vtisdom which 
when employed in the affairs of mankind was rigidly 
pinned doun to the plain and straight- forward, and that 
which vvas founded upon experience and practice. This 
is so unusual a combination that perhaps another instance 
is not to be found. He not merely excelled all his con- 
temporaries in the number of his powers, but some in the 
peculiar excellence belonging to each ; a tolerable poet 
even while a boy, a penetrating philosopher, an acute 
critic, and a judicious historian when a very young man, 
a judge of the fine arts whose opinions even Reynolds 
vak.ed, a political economist when the science was scarce- 
ly known here or known to very few, a statesman often 
pronounced one of the wisest that ever adorned our 
country, an orator second to none of any age, a writer of 
extraordinary powers on every subject, and on politics 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 439 

the first for depth and eloquence in our languasje ; and 
in addition to these, possessed of a vast and multifarious 
store of knowledge of which all who had any intercourse 
with him, whether friend or opponent, have spoken in 
terms of strong admiration and surprise. Like the cele- 
brated Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne, whose philosophy 
regarding matter he had once set himself the task to 
refute, there vi^as nothing useful of which he could be 
said to be ignorant. 

The testimony borne to his talents and acquirements 
during so many years by Dr. Johnson, a few of which 
have been repeated in this work, and more are to be 
found in Boswell's amusing volumes, would alone stamp 
the fame of any man. Even while travelling in the He- 
brides, this favourite topic of the great moralist was not 
forgotten : " I do not," said he to Bos well, alluding to 
what he considered inferior minds who had acquired a 
lead they did not deserve in public affairs, " grudge 
Burke being the first man in the House of Commons, 
for he is the first man every where.'' 

Lord Thurlow, after so many years of political bick- 
erings, and whose judgment in consequence was not 
likely to be biassed by undue partiality, spoke a language 
not less strong when in a private company where there 
was some allusion to the comparative merits of the three 
great orators and statesmen of the age, he observed, — 
" The name of Burke will be remembered with admira- 
tion, when those of Pitt and Fox will be comparatively 
forgotten." 

The celebrated Mirabeau was known to speak of him 
more than once with great applause, and what was more 
singular, delivered in the National Assembly on several 
occasions large passaoes, with some trivial alterations, 
from the printed speeches and writings of Mr. Burke, as 



4)4rO LIFE OF THE 

his own ; on beinp: reprr)ache(l u ith this once, he admit- 
ted the fact, aj)()l()L(ising for it by sayini^, that he had not 
had time to arrani^e his own thoui^hts on some of the 
many topics he was oblis^ed to discuss, and that in no 
other productions could he find such an union of argu- 
ment and eloquence. 

As coming from the pen of the scarcely less celebrated 
opponent of Mirabeau, the following possesses much 
interest ; it was at first attributed to Peltier, but was 
really written by M. Cazales ; — "■ Died at his house at 
Beaconsfield, with that simple dignity, that unostentatious 
magnanimity so consonant to the tenour of his life and 
actions, the Right Honourable Edmund Burke. There 
never was a more beautiful alliance between virtue and 
talents. All his conceptions were grand, all his senti- 
ments generous. The great leading trait of his charac- 
ter and that which gave it all its energy and its colour, 
was that strong hatred of vice which is no other than the 
passionate love of virtue. It breathes in all h;s writings ; 
it was the guide of all his actions. But even the force 
of his eloquence was insufficient to transfuse it into the 
weaker or perverted minds of his contemporaries. This 
has caused much of the miseries of Europe ; this has 
rendered of no effect towards her salvation the sublimest 
talents, the greatest and rarest virtues that the beneficence 
of Providence ever concentred in a single character for 
the benefit of mankind. But Mr. Burke was too supe» 
rior to the age in which he lived. His prophetic genius 
only astonished the nation which it ought to have go- 
verned." 

Mr. Windham, who was his devoted friend and ad- 
mirer, often exjjressed similar sentiments, and in the 
same spirit as the concluding sentence of the preceding 
passage, wrote in a private letter about this time, what 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 44<l 

as a Minister it would not perhaps have been quite so 
decorous towards his coadjutors to say in pubic : " I do 
not reckon it amongst the least calamities of the times, 
certainly not amonjjj th se that affect me least, that the 
world has now lost Mr. Burke. Olr! how much may 
we rue that his counsels were not followed ! O'l ! how 
exactly do we see verified all that he has predicte J." 

On the first allusion to the French Revolution in 1790, 
Mr. Fox said that his reverence for the judgment of his 
right honourable friend was unfeigned ; for that if he 
were to put all the political inf )rmation he had gained 
from books, all that he had learned from science, and 
all that the knowledge of the world and its affairs had 
tau<^ht him, into one great scale, and the improvement 
he had derived from the conversation and instruction of 
his right honourable friend in the other, the latter would 
preponderate." Some tim:; afterwards, he repeated that 
*' from him he had learned nearly all his political k*now- 
ledge." At the moment of their disunion he observed, 
** that however they might differ on present matters, he 
must still look to his honourable friend as his master;" 
adding^ upon the same occasion, " He must again repeat 
that all he ever knew of men, that all he ever read in 
books, that all his reasoning faculties informed him of, 
or his fancy suggested to him, did not imparl that exalted 
knowledge, that superior information, which he had ac- 
quired from the lessons of his right honourable friend. 
To him he owed all his faine, if fame he had any. And if 
he (Mr. Fox) should now or at any time prevail over 
him in discussion, he could acknowledge his gratitude 
for the capability and pride of the conquest in telling 
him — 

* Hoc ipsum quod vincit id est tuum.* '' 
3K 



^i2 LIFE OF THE 

At the moment of proposin.s^ his interment in West- 
minster Abbey, he a^ain repeated the same acknowledg- 
ments in terms which, in the words of a Member in at- 
tendance, *' drew tears from every one present who had 
any feelings at all, or could sympathise in the excellence 
of the great genius then before them, or with the still 
greater excellence of the genius who had departed." 

"Burke," said Mr. Gerard Hamilton (whom Mr. Grat- 
tan pronounced a great judge of men and things,) at the 
period of their greatest coolness, " understands every 
thing but gaming and music. In the House of Com- 
mons I sometimes think him only the second man in Eng- 
land ; out of it he is always the first." The unknown 
author of the ' Pursuits of Literature,' who seems to have 
no other point of agreement with Dr. Parr, agrees with 
him at least in rapturous eulogy of Mr. Burke, in a va- 
riety of passages of his work, in verse and in prose, in 
Greek, in Latin, in English, and in no ordinary terms, 
' First in the East,' ' Regent of Day,' * Luminary of Eu- 
rope,' ' great and unequalled man' '* who opened the 
eyes of the whole nation to the systems of internal de- 
struction and irreversible misery which awaited it, and 
who only displayed them to confound and wither them 
by his powers," adding the praise of Paterculus to Ci- 
cero — 

*• Anirao vidit, ingenio compiexus est, eloquentia illuminavit." 

" Let me," says Dr. Parr, " speak what my mind 
prompts of the eloquence of Burke — of Burke, by whose 
sweetness Athens herself would have been soothed, with 
whose amplitude and exuberance she would have been 
enraptured, and on whose lips that prolific mother of ge- 
nius and science would have adored, confessed the God- 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 443 

dess of Persuasion." " Who is there," adds the same 
learned critic, " among men of eloquence or learning; 
more profoundly versed in every branch of science ? 
Who is there that has cultivated philosophy, the parent 
of all that is illustrious in literature or exploit, with more 
felicitous success? Who is there that can transfer so 
happily the result of laborious and intricate research to 
the most familiar and popular topics? Who is there 
that possesses so extensive yet so accurate an acquain- 
tance with every transaction recent or remote ? Who is 
there that can deviate from his subject for the purposes 
of delight with such engaging ease, and insensibly con- 
duct his readers from the severity of reasoning to the fes- 
tivity of wit? Who is there that can melt them if the 
occasion requires with such resistless power to grief or 
pity ? Who is there that combines the charm of inimi- 
table grace and urbanity with such magnificent and bound- 
less expansion ?" 

Mr. Curvven, whose political opinions have been al- 
ready noticed, thus writes of him on viewing Ballitore, 
the scene of his early acquisitions in knowledge. *' The 
admiration, nay astonishment, with which 1 have so often 
listened to Mr. Burke gave an interest to every spot con- 
nected with his memory, and forcibly brought to my re- 
collection the profundity and extent of his knowledge, 
while the energy, warmth, and beauty of his imagery cap- 
tured the heart and made the judgment tributary to his 
will. As an orator he surpassed all his contemporaries, 
and was perhaps never exceeded." 

Another Parliamentary contemporary and supporter 
previous to the French Revolution, but whf) was so incu- 
rably bitten by that event that he has never since reco- 
vered a sober understanding, ackno^^ ledges, amidst se- 
veral gross misrepresentations, '* The poiiucal knowledge 



444 LIFE OF THE 

of Mr. Burke might be considered almost as an Encyclo- 
pt-dla ; every man who approached him received instruc- 
tion from his stores." " Learninsj/' writes a contempo- 
rary of a different stam|\ b'lt who rievertheless never vot- 
ed with him except during the period of the coalition 
Ministry, "waited upon him like a handmaid, presenting 
to his choice all that antiquity had culled or invented ; he 
often seemed to be oppressed under the load and variety 
of his intellectual treasi res. Every power of oratory was 
w ielded by him in turn ; for he could be during the same 
evening pathetic and humorous, acrimonious and conci- 
liating ; now giving a loose to his indignation and seve- 
rity ; and then almost in the same breath calling to his as- 
sistance ridicule, wit, and mockery.'' 

" As an orator," adds another adversary on the ques- 
tion of revolutionary politics, " notwithstanding some de- 
fects, he stands almost unrivallecl. No man was better 
calculated to arouse the dormant passions, to call forth 
the glowino^ affections of the human heart, and to ' har- 
row up' the inmost recesses of the soul. Venality and 
meanness stood appalled in his presence ; he who was 
dead to the feelings of his own conscience w as still alive 
to his animated reproaches : and corruption for a while 
became alarmed at the terrors of his countenance. Had 
he died during the meridian of his fame and character he 
could scarcely have been considered second to any man 
either of ancient or modern times." The meridian of his 
fame and character means, in this writer's opinion, before 
he assailed the French Revolution, and the same party 
all speak the same language ; but the rest of the world 
deem his exertions upon that subject the climax of his 
reputation and powers. 

*' His eloquence," said Mr. Wiiberforce on another 
occasion — and it was rarely their lot to agree on political 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 445 

matters — " had always attracted, his imagination conti- 
nually charmed, his reasonings often convinced him. Of 
his head and of his heart, of his abihties and of his huma- 
nity, of his rectitude and of his perseverance, no man 
could entertain a higher opinion than he did." To these 
might be added some hundreds of similar eulogies of his 
character and powers from inferior men ; language indeed 
has been nearly exhausted in characterising them ; and 
the terms " a vast storehouse of knowledge," " an illus- 
trious man," *'a wonderful man," "an unequalled man;" 
"a mighty man," "an all-knowing mind," "a bound- 
less mind," " an exhausless mind," " the most consum- 
mate orator of the age," " the greatest orator and wisest 
statesman of modern times," occur to the reader of nearly 
every w ork, untainted by party spirit, in which he is men- 
tioned. 

Much the greater part of these praises were bestowed 
by persons who knew him, not merely in the casual bus- 
tle of political life, but in moments when the statesman 
was sunk in the social acquaintance ; and this is the most 
valuable species of testimony ; for it sometimes happens 
that a nearer view of public men diminishes much of that 
wonder we feel at a distance. O i the contrary it appears 
that intimacy with Mr. B irke increased it. His more 
private friends, who happened to be little or not at all 
connected with public affi\irs, and v ho had the best pos- 
sible opportunities of probing and exploring the man, 
loved him the best, and prized him the most. The same 
feeling existed among his relations. No man, it has been 
said, is a hero to his valet de chambre, and from the same 
feeling of familiarity, few men, however great in the esti- 
niation of the world, carry the impression of gseatness 
into tlie bosoms of their own families. But even here. 



If^G LIF£. OP THE 

where most unveiled and unreserved, he had the fortune 
to secure both profound attdchment and respect. 

Richard his brother, and WiUiam Bourke, themselves 
able men, his companions from youth, the partakers of 
his fortunes, the participators in many of his studies, who 
knew if any men could know the value of his mind and 
the labours bestowed upon its culture, looked up to him 
with a teeling of veneration. Sentiments of this kind 
frequently appear in the letters of both. At an early pe- 
riod of his public life, Richard writing;; to a friend in Ire- 
land thus concludes an eulogium upon him — '' Whatever 
he has is his own ; he owes the public nothing, whatever 
the public may owe to him. It is but ju^t to his cha- 
racter to say that for honour, for integrity, and for ability, 
no man ever stood higher in public estimation in this 
kingdom ; and I will add, but it is to you that I write, 
no man ever better deserved it." William Bourke, 
writing about the same time, speaks the same language, 
Though no relation of Edmund, and spelling his name 
originally as it is here spelt, this gentleman was so much 
attached to him from boyhood, and so proud of the con- 
nexion, that, in the language of a friend of the family, 
" he woiild have knocked any man down who had dared 
to dispute the relationahip." 

The respectful admiration of his son equalled that of 
his brother and friend. During the last visit to Ireland 
in 1786, \\hen Mr. Shackleton, after listening attentively 
to some ingenious and profound observations of the fa- 
ther, turned aside soon afterwards with his son and re- 
marked in conversation "he is the greatest mari of the 
a^e ;" " He is," replied the son, u ith filial enthusiasm, 
and a very near approximation to the truth, " the greatest 
man of any age." Dr. Lawrence whose friendship he 



RIGHT HON, EDMUND BURKE. 417 

valued, and whose talents drew the animated encomium 
of the late Mr. Whitbread, considered hi in by far the 
most eloquent man of the age, and still greater in wisdom 
than in eloquence. A few living, and many other dead 
friends expressed the same opinion. 

Nothing perhaps more strongly exhibits the homage 
paid to his vigour of mind than the influence it gave him 
over the most eminent men with whom political con- 
nexion brought him into close contact : over the Marquis 
of Rockingham, a man of sound talents unquestionably ; 
over Mr. Dowdeswell, and all the ablest of that party ; 
over the Duke of Portland ; over Mr. Fox ; over Mr. 
Windham ; over all his private friends without excep- 
tion 5 over the most distinguished of the Old Whig party 
now living ; over several of the Coalition Ministry ; in a 
considerable degree over Mr. Pitt and his colleagues in 
1792, at least as much as the habitual pride, and jealousy 
of all political talents entertained by the Minister, would 
permit ; and, on nearly all the great questions he embraced, 
eventually over the whole nation. If it require a strong 
understanding to gain a leading influence over even the 
ignorant and the weak, what must that be which subjects 
to its dominion the enlightened, the powerful, and in ta- 
lents not merely the great but the vast ? 

HIS ELOQUENCE. 

Of the conception which we have been taught to en- 
tertain of what a great and commanding orator should 
be, whose moral character must be pure ; whose know- 
ledge is universal; whose genius animates and adorns his 
knowledge; whose language flo.vs at will ; whose deli- 
very is impressive ; whose powers of reasoning and ima- 
gination are equally strong ; whose presence of mind 



448 LIFE OF THE 

rarely deserts him ; whose readiness so combine all these 
qualities, or to draw upon each separately, according to 
circumstances, is unlirnited — there is no man in English 
history who comes near to Mr. Burke. It has been re- 
marked with some truth that his powers, if shared oat, 
would have made half a dozen of good oratcjrs. It must 
at least be regarded as an uncommon coincidence that 
he should unite in an eminent degree nearly every one of 
the requisites which the ancients point out as necessary 
to the character. Others of the great political names of 
our country possess only two or three of the qualities 
here enumerated. Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox, for instance, 
equalled him in vigour of reasoning, in judgment, and in 
fluency ; Mr. Sheridan in coolness, promptitude and wit ; 
Lord Chatham had the advantage in bold and indeed 
overpowering delivery, and, perhajjs, Lird Bolingbroke 
also in some degree ; Charles Townshend in a peculiar 
parliamentary skill in seizing the favourable moment to 
push a subject, and in the adaptation of his povvers to the 
point at issue, and to the temper of the House ; but none 
of them possessed the combination peculiar to Mr. Burke. 
Neither had they his originality of thought, his force of 
language, his striking phraseology, or that inexhaustible 
fertility upon every topic which constitutes the soul of 
eloquence, and which, when his opponents had little else 
to find fault with, they urged against him as a defect. He 
would seem therefore to have been cut out for a great 
orator partly by some natural gifts, and partly l>y having 
grounded and "reared himself upon the model which 
classic authority recommends. And this must have been 
done at an early period ; led to it probably not so much 
from any sanguine expectation of ever becoming the cha- 
racter which he admired, as by the expected d ities of 
the profession he at first contemplated, or by that latent 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 449 

instinct which, without knowing^ precisely whither it 
tends, so often propels and guides in the pursuits of life. 

A distinction may be made, and perhaps hold good, 
betv^ een a great orator and a debater. It has been said, 
that in the latter respect Mr. Fox acquired the superiority 
over all men. No speaker certainly was ever heard with 
more consideration by those opposed to him, or so much 
partiality by those he led, as well from his unquestioned 
talents and popularity, as the strong attachment of the 
latter to his person, which no other political leader has 
had the fortune to secure. It will nevertheless be difficult 
to point out where Mr. Burke's presumed inferiority lay. 
In information, in wisdom upon all great occasions, and 
in variety of talents, to secure them a favourable recep- 
tion from his hearers, he had no equal: in readiness and 
vigour no superior ; and he was accused of being frequent 
and fertile to a fault. 

After all, however, it may be doubted whether this 
great dexterity in debate of Mr. Fox be any just criterion 
of the highest order of intellect, or whether his style which 
commonly accompanied it was of the highest style of 
oratory — that style, which is not merely effective in the 
British Senate, but which commands the admiration of 
all men of all countries, as the perfection of the art. 
Judged by this .standard he comes much short of Mr. 
Burke. A good debater, though a character al.nost 
wholly English, as there was scarcely any such (their 
speeches being chiefly written) among the ancients, and 
little resembling him in the rest of Europe at the present 
day, is more of a mechanic perhaps than he is willing to 
acknowledge. His range is commonly narrowed, his 
aim bounded by local or temporary circumstances, which, 
though calculated to meet some petty interest or emer- 
gency of the moment, often become an obstacle to a very 
3 L 



450 LIFE OF THE 

wide expansion of mind ; he may be said to move within 
a moral circle, to work in a species of political tread-mill; 
and his art has been, and it is but fair to calculate, may 
be again acquired, at an age when other and higher fa- 
culties remain still unfolded. A good debater, therefore, 
may in a great measure be made. The art of a great 
and commanding orator, in the highest acceptation of the 
term, must, like that of the poet, be chiefly born with 
him. 

The oratorical style of Mr. Burke is not only of the 
very highest order, but it possesses the first characteristic 
of genius — originality. We have nothing that is very 
similar to it, and little perhaps equal to it, in our language, 
though of its nature and power, its vigour and variety, 
its novelty of thought, and intellectual brilliancy which 
flashes athwart every subject, and transmutes all objects 
that it meets with into auxiliaries to his main purpose, a 
very inadequate idea can be conveyed by description, 
and no specimen can do it justice. When Johnson was 
asked whether Mr. Burke resembled Tullius Cicero, 
"No, Sir," was the reply, "he resembles Edmund 
Burke." Taken as a whole, however, his manner par- 
takes of the grandeur of the eloquent Roman, with more 
of richness, of masculine energy, and altogether a greater 
reach of mind than he displays ; though with less of 
chastity, of elaborate elegance or methodical arrange- 
ment, as might be expected in speeches which, unlike 
those of the great ancient, were not polished into perfec- 
tion before they were spoken : while in detached passages 
he son.ttimes assun.es an air of severity, and of that sim- 
pler dign'ty \ hich !)elongs to Demosthenes, to whom as 
an orator he gave tlie preference. 

His eloquence will be found less remarkable for the 
predominance of any one faculty of the mind, than for 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 451 

that distinguishing feature already alluded to — a combi- 
nation of them all ; a peculiarity which has so much con- 
fused the judgment of many, and not mean critics, as 
to give rise to the most contradictory opinions. So.ne 
represent him as addressing the passions and imagination 
more than the understanding; others of overw helming 
his subject by (uring in argument much more than 
enough ; some of dealing in tha old, flowing, loose, yet 
powerful style which they term licentious; others of being 
often abrupt and severe; some for indulging in too much 
wit, and ornament, and lighter matter ; others for being 
too metaphysical and refined, and too much above the 
intellectual level of the assembly he addressed, though 
that assembly was the House of Commons. Some again 
have honestly confessed, that after much meditation they 
can make nothing at all of him — that his qualities con- 
tradict each other, and that his powers and his mode of 
wielding them, are equally indescribable. 

All these opinions, it is clear, cantiot be true, and the 
confusion perhaps arises from each viewing him in the 
light which strikes strongest at the moment; from at- 
tending not so much to the whole as to single parts, each 
of which indeed is so striking in itself, as to appear a 
principal in the cause in which it is embodied only as an 
auxiliary. Examine any single oration he has published, 
that on American Taxation for instance, the first, though 
perhaps not the best, and the pervading feeling in the 
mind of the reader after perusal is a conviction of sound, 
straight- forward sense, ingenious and honest views, mo- 
deration of tone, and acute discriminating wisdom in the 
speaker. Omit the graphic sketches of character if these 
be deemed extraneous or meretricious, and there is little 
to offend even a fastidious taste. Nothing whatever 
flowery (an accusation sometimes laid to Mr. Burke's 



i!b^ LIFE OF THE 

chaffije by a confusion of language, though there is not 
even an ap{)roach to such a quality in any one of his 
speeches or vvritiniis;) nothing merely amusing or orna- 
mental; nothing u hich the plainest understanding may 
not instantly comprehend ; nothing which solicits the 
imagination for a ii.^ure, without the figure strikes hard 
and home in so(ne form or other upon the argument ; but 
a total of vigour and effect, as on any question which 
much engaged his attention, that no other modern orator 
imparts, and which the records of Parliament teach us 
no other could impart. His great aim, as to manner, in 
this, as in all his public speeches and his writings, is 
strength. To this he often sacrifices every minor consi- 
deration of elegance or beauty, which were reserved 
chiefly for his private communications. He approaches 
to a contest therefore not with two or three, but with 
that variety of qualities which may be compared to a 
whole armoury of weapons; and the skill with which 
they were used, and the consequent difficulty experienced 
by the ablest opponents in meeting him fully on every 
point of attack, made him at all times a most formidable 
assailant in Parliament — a kind of Briareus among politi- 
cal disputants. 

To arrive at this result his mind possessed a peculiarly 
discursive faculty; like a bird of prey upon the wing, it 
was ever on the watch for something on which to levy 
contributions. Few things, therefore, whether great or 
little, whether of nature or art, whether belonging to 
earth or to a higher region, escape him; he darts upon 
them without materially impeding his course, or has the 
rarer art, in most of his deviations, to carry his subject 
along with him. He seldom indeed stops to select ; he 
grasps at much which a severer judgment would reject, 
but whatever he seizes he has the art beyond any other 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 453 

man oF putting to use, and his progress often reminds us 
of a torrent sweeping rock and tree and earth along with 
it, yet acquiring additional power even from the heteroge- 
neous nature of its accumulations. In these however there 
is very little of common-place. His conceptions, without 
violent strainina;, are almost always original. We meet 
with things in him which are to be found in no other 
quarter, which are wholly unexpected, and which perhaps 
scarcely any one ever before imagined, or at least thought 
of conjoining and adapting to such purposes as he had 
in view. He has drilled more extraordinary and bold 
auxiliaries to the art of persuasion than any other orator 
ancient or modern ; and while their novelty creates sur- 
prise, we are often at a loss to discover not only how 
they get into their new situation, but by what dexterity 
of mental magic they are made to play so conspicuous a 
part. 

At times he seems on the verge of extravagance, not 
indeed that species of it which excites laughter or con- 
tempt, but rather astonishment. Along this dangerous 
precipice, dangerous in many respects to an ambitious 
orator or writer, he treads in perfect security, while other 
and even eminent men in attempting to pursue his track 
have not been able to preserve themselves from falling 
into absurdity, chiefly because they mistake the severe 
boldness of his occasionally figurative manner, for a flow- 
ery manner; than which no two things can be more op- 
posite ; the former being the offspring of stronger, the lat- 
ter in general of looser and weaker intellectual powers. 
Nothing indeed is more peculiar to his impassioned style 
than this diflSculty of imitation. To be convinced of it, 
let any one take a page or two of any of our English clas- 
sics, Addison or Johnson for instance, and aim at hitting 
off" their chief characteristics, and he may probably make 



454 LIFE OF THE 

the resemblance respectable ; let him again attempt those 
of Burke, and he will almost certainly fail ; he will either 
overdo or underdo it. Even Mr. Sheridan, with all his 
genius, who had his eye upon this great model in the 
early part of his career, soon found out that the endeavour 
was almost hopeless, and therefore prudently gave it up. 
It is remarkable that Mr. Burke himself more than once 
experienced that his excellencies were, or were represent- 
ed, as defects, and that the very number of his talents 
served as a handle to impair the effect he expected to 
produce ; for there is a large class of auditors to be found 
in the House of Commons as elsewhere, who think that 
an argument to- be good must be dull, that wit in the 
course of it is misapplied, and that a flash of genius is a 
kind of sudden death to the whole process of reasoning 
— an idea to which even Mr. Pitt with characteristic dex- 
terity was fond of giving countenance, when he had no- 
thing better at hand to offer to the hard-pushing and keen 
and various powers of his gifted adversary. 

It may be true, that in performing the frequent duty 
of an Opposition leader — that of making an eloquent 
speech out of little or nothing — he sometimes, on lighter 
matters at least, delighted to play with his subject ; to 
wanton in the luxuriance of his imagination, wit, and sar- 
casm ; to dally and amuse himself and others on the dull 
road it was so often his lot to travel, by giving a kind of 
jubilee to his animal spirits. But his power over the main 
question uas as visible on these as on more serious oc- 
casions ; it was often termed the " wantonness of elo- 
quence," and might be called the consciousness of men- 
tal power ; he reminds us of a horse soldier exercis- 
ing preliminary sabre flourishes over the head of a de- 
fenceless enemy on foot, previous to putting him to death. 
It would be hazardous to pronounce these or any other 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 455 

of his deviations misplaced ; for some of the most skilful 
passages in oratory are those which occasionally glance 
from the main point to prepare attention for what is to 
follow. Homer is said to nod, and Burke may occasion- 
ally trifle, but both are probably the effects of design. 
Few subjects admit of continued excitement of mind for 
a length of time, and few audiences relish for three or 
four hours together what is called a continued chain of 
reasoning. Rests are as useful and necessary in a long 
speech as in a long journey, and their judicious intermix- 
ture, as they occasion the least fatigue, are likely to im- 
part the greater pleasure. •* To have attained a relish 
for his (Mr. Burke's) charms," says an eminent critic, 
" is greatly to have advanced in literature." 

Certain peculiarities in his eloquence, such as the 
strength of imagination, the vehemence, the force of in- 
vective, the almost morbid acuteness of feeling (which 
nevertheless is one of the requisites to an orator to make 
his hearers also feel,) belong as much perhaps to his coun- 
try as to the individual. Several of the orators of Ire- 
land exhibit something of the same spirit in the few spe- 
cimens preserved of their most animated contentions. 
English Parliamentary oratory, so far as it is preserved, 
has little of this character. But the specimens are so few 
and imperfect as to make it difficult to judge ; little in 
fact exists, previous to the commencement of the late 
reign, which gives us any tolerable idea of the speeches 
or style of speaking of the great names in our political 
annals. Even the supposed early effusions of Lord Chat- 
ham are well known to derive their chief merit from the 
pen of Dr. Johnson, who rarely, if at all, heard him speak 
at that time, and who wrote his and the other speeches, 
Sometimes from a few meagre hints, frequently from none 
at all, simply from knowing \Yhich side of the argument 



4.^6 LIFE OF THE 

the speakers had taken. Statesmen then contended as 
if their eloquence was only born to die with the debate of 
the day ; to become for ever extinguished and forgotten 
in the very spot which gave it birth, leaving to posterity 
no memorial of their noblest stand against an unconstitu- 
tional measure or Minister, but the record of the rejection 
of the one or the dismissal from office of the other. It 
is also true what Mr. Burke somewhere observes, that 
debates a century ago were comparative parish vestry 
discussions to what they afterwards became. This change, 
in the general belief, was chiefly owing to himself; he is 
considered, by the enlarged views, the detailed exposi- 
tions of policy, the intermixture of permanent truths bear- 
ing upon temporary facts, and the general lustre and air 
of wisdom which he was the first to introduce at large 
into Parliamentary discussion, greatly to have exalted the 
character of Parliament itself; and by the. display of his 
own characteristics to have excited the emulation of 
others. No comparison at least can be drawn between 
the tone and value of Parliamentary eloquence, previous 
to his appearance there and since. 

As an accuser, his power was truly terrific ; he has ex- 
hausted the whole compass of the English language in 
the fierceness of his invective and the bitterness of his 
censure; for even Junius, with all the advantages of in- 
discriminate personality, private scandal, and the mask 
under which he fought, has not exceeded him in severity, 
while he falls infinitely short of him in reach of though % 
command of language, energy of expression, and variety 
of reproach. Junius is more pungent in his assaults, Mr. 
Burke more powerful ; Junius imparts the idea of keen- 
ness, Mr. Burke of force ; Junius of possessing joo'vers to 
a certain degree circumscribed, Mr. B irke of a ira.nr 
tude nearly boundless ; Junius hews down his victim v</kh 



RIGHT HON EDMUND BURKE. 4)57 

a double eds^ed sabre, Mr. Burke Fells him with a sledge 
Iiammer, and repeats his blow so often, and in so many 
different modes, that few can again recognise the carcass 
he has once taken it in hand to mangle. 

Muciiof this wrathful spirit arose from what he thought 
tyranny or crime, where great public offences or great 
supposed culprits were in question, and when he con- 
ceived himself bound to summon up every faculty he pos- 
sessed not merely to overpower but to destroy them. In re- 
ply to the attack of the Duke of Bedford, though he curbs 
much of his natural vehemence from the provocation be- 
ing personal to himself, there is great vigour, with some- 
thing of a lofty contempt of his opponent. But few, if 
any, records of exertions by one man equal in labour and 
talents those against the French Revolution and iMr. Has- 
tings. Against the latter his speeches were heard with 
an awe approaching to terror ; by some their severity has 
been censured, but their apologies, to which litde can be 
added, were volunteered at the moment even by two po- 
litical adversaries, Mr. Pitt and Mr. VViJberforce.* 



* The latter, in an animated address, said, he did not wonder 
at the mind of Burke being warmed, and his feelings excited, by 
the nature of the supposed crimes of the accused ; for he was 
aware of the transactions in India before ahnost any one else; 
he had been brooding over them for years; and it was natural 
for him to see their enormity in a magnified point of view. JMr. 
Pitt, C9th May, 1787,) "admitted that lie was onceof opinion 
that the language of those who chiefly promoted the present pro- 
ceeding was too full of acerbity, and much too passionate and 
exaggerated; but when he found what th^ nature of tlie crimes 
alleged was, and how strong the presumption that the allegations 
were true, he confessed that he could not expect that gentlemen, 
when reciting what they thought actions of treachery, actions of 



458 LIFE OF THE 

In the more mechanical part of oratory — delivery, his 
manner was usually bold, less $^raceful than powerful, his 
enunciation vehement and unchecked by any embarrass- 
ment, his periods flowin.sj and harmonious, his language 
always forcible, sometimes choice, but when strongly ex- 
cited by the subject, acrimonious and sarcastic, his epi- 
thets numerous, and occasionally strong o coarse ; his 
invective furious, and sometimes overpowering, and to 
the last he retained much of the Irish accent, which, in 
the opinion of many, materially marred the power of his 
eloquence. At times his gesticulation was violent, his 
tone harsh, and an habitual undulating motion of the head 
(which is alluded to in the lines before quoted from Simp- 
kin's Letters) had ihe appearance of indicating something 
of a self Confident or intractable spirit ; he seemed as if 
he would command as well as ]>ersuade the t^uditors of 
the opposite benches, and the effect proved occasionally 
disadvantageous to his views. 

His speeches,- though always abounding in instructive 
and ingenious matter, were sometimes, like those of Mr. 
Fox, too long, both orators sinning in this respect from a 
fulness of mind which, having once begun to disburthen 
itself, appeared inexhaustible. Three hours from each 
being a common eftbrt, left nothing for any one else on 
the same side to say. Some Members expressed discon- 
tent at being thus thnnvn into the shade, particularly 
those of Opposition after the quarrel on the French Re- 
volution, when one of ihe principal is said to have com- 
plained of Mr. Burke being too much of a monopolist in 
this way, though he admitted him to be " undoubtedly 

violence and oppression, and demahding an investigation into 
those actions, should speak a language ditforent from that which 
would naturally arise from the contemplation of such actions." 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 459 

the best informed man in either House of Parliament, 
the most eloquent man, and frequently the wittiest man." 
There are moments indeed when the best speakers, es- 
pecially out of power, cannot obtain an attentive hearing 
from huni^ry and impatient auditors; a debater must often 
wait for the mollissima tempora fandi ; and the great sub- 
ject of this sketch himsell particularly commends Charles 
Tovvnshend's skill in this respect, as " hitting the house 
between v\ ind and water." 

A description of the manner as well as of the power of 
Mr. Burke in debate, by the Duke de Levis, is interest- 
ing as coming from a foreigner ; the remarks on his dress 
will be thought not a little characteristic of a Frenchman's 
constitutional attachment to show and effect in opposition 
to English plainness and simplicity. The occasion was 
a debate on the French Revolution : — 

*' The man whom 1 had the greatest desire to hear was 
the celebrated Mr. Burke, author of the Essay on the 
Sublime and Beautiful, and often himself sublime. At 
length he rose, but in beholdinjj him I could scarcely re- 
cover from my surprise. I had so frequently heard his 
eloquence compared to that of Demosthenes and Cicero, 
that my imagination associating him with those great 
names had represented him to me in a noble and impos- 
ing garb. I certainly did not expect to find him in the 
British Parliament dressed in the ancient toga ; nor was I 
prepared to see him in a tight brown coat, which seemed 
to impede every movement, and above all the little bob- 
wig with curls. * * * In the mean time he moved into 
the middle of the House, contrary to the usual practice, 
for the members speak standing and uncovered, not leav- 
ing their places. But Mr. Burke, with the most natural 
air imaginable, with seeming humility, and with folded 
arms, began his speech in so low a tone of voice that I 



460 LIFE OF THE 

could scarcely hear him. Soon after, however, becoming 
animated by degrees, he debcribed relit^ion attacked, the 
bonds of subordination broken, civil society threatened to 
its foundations; and in order. to show that England could 
depend only upon herself, he pictured in glowing colours 
the political state of Europe ; the spirit of ambition and 
fo'ly which pervaded the greater part of her governments; 
tie' culpable apathy of some, the weakness of all. When 
in the course of this grand sketch he mentioned Spain, 
that immense monarchy which appeared to have fallen 
into a total lethargy, ' What- can we expect,' said he, 
* from her?' mighty indeed, but unwieldy — vast in bulk, 
but inert in spirit-^-a m hale stranded upon the sea shore 
of Europe.' The whole house was silent; all eyes were 
upon him, and this silence was interrupted only by the 
loud cries of hear ! hear ! a kind of accompaniment which 
the friends of the speaking Member adopt in order to di- 
rect attention to the most brilliant passages of his speech. 
But these cheerings were superfluous on the preseiit oc- 
casion ; every mind was fixed ; the sentiments he ex- 
pressed spread themselves with rapidity; every one 
shared his emotion, whether he represented the ministers 
of religion proscribed, inhumanly persecuted and banished, 
imploring the Almighty in a foreign land to forgive their 
ungrateful country ; or when he depicted in tlie most af- 
fecting manner the misfortunes of the Royal Family, and 
the humiliation of the daughter of the Gaescir^. Every 
eye was bathed in tears ^t the recital of these sad calami- 
ties supported with such heroic fortitude. Mr. Burke 
then, by an easy transition, passed oh to the exposition of 
those ab^.urd attempts of inexperienced men to establish 
a chimerical liberty ; nor did he spare the petulant vanity 
of upstarts in their pretended love for equality. The truth 
of these striking and animated pictures made the whole 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 46l 

House pass in an instant from the tenderest emotions of 
feeling to bursts of laughter; never was the electric power 
of eloquence more imperiously felt; this extraordinary 
man seemed to raise and quell the passions of his auditors 
wnh as much ease, and as rapidly, as a skilful musician 
passes into. the various modulations of his harpsicord. I 
have witnessed many, too many political assemblages 
and striking scenes where eloquence performed a noble 
part, but the whole of them appear insipid when com- 
pared with this amasing effort." 

Considerable difference of manner may be observed in 
his speeches and writings, the former having a more 
rapid, vehement, freedom of style, throwing off shorter 
and less finished, t^iough not less spirited sketches than 
the latter ; there is likewise more aim at effect, the sen- 
tences shorter and more epigrammatic, and the subject on 
the whole more condensed. A belief prevailed for a 
short time in the early part of his career of their being 
written previous to delivery — an impression arising from 
their admitted superiority over those of his contempora- 
ries ; but this was not the case. He meditated deeply, 
and was sometimes heard to express his thoughts aloud. 
On new, or very important questions, he occasionally 
committed some of the heads of his argument to paper, 
but for the language, the colouring, and illustration, he 
trusted to a well-stored mind, a retentive memory, and a 
readiness which, from constant discipline in the school of 
debate, never failed him. As to his public speeches we 
have the authority of Gibbon who heard them, as well as 
of still more intimate friends, for saying they received no 
embellishments in passing through the press. It is well 
known indeed that the fragments preserved of several 
■were written down after and not before delivery, assisted 
by the notes and recollection of different Members, and 
not unfrequently of the public reporters. 



462 LIFE OF THK 



HIS WRITINGS, 



Next to the thirst for oratorical renown, perhaps quite 
equal to it in degree, Mr. Burke aimed at acquiring 
\vei!;ht and celebrity by his pen, seeming to think fame 
in the senate of inferior value until stamped by the ap- 
proving seal of the press. Avaricious of excellence, he 
grasped at superiority in both pursuits, desirous to show 
the world that though in a series of 2000 years (with the 
single exception of Lord Bolingbroke, if he can be deem- 
ed an exception) one of them had been found sufficient 
for the faculties of any one man, he at least possessed the 
ability to urite with, if possible, still more power than he 
could speak. Of this sort of distinction he felt that no 
superior party influence, no jealousy, no misrepresenta- 
tion, could deprive him ; for the world at large is a tole- 
rably impartial tribunal. 

Yet as men have an obvious aversion to the union of 
excellencies in any one person, the moment he was pro- 
nounced the greatest writer of the age — a verdict which 
none has withheld — some attempts were made to ques- 
tion, what was never questioned before, his power in the 
House of Commons, exemplifying the remark of Dr. 
Parr when speaking of him ; " There is an unwillingness 
in the world to admit that the same man has excelled in 
various pursuits : yet Burke's compositions, diversified 
as they are in their nature, though each excelling in its 
kind, who does not read with instruction and delight?" 
When this was written the French Revolution had not 
taken place, and consequently half his strength remained 
unknown. That event- drew it forth with indescribable 
effect. He had to contend with much of the political, 
and by far the greater part of the literary strength of the 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 463 

country, at least that portion of which was seen most fre- 
quently in the press, without a single second, of even 
moderate talents, in the literary class to assist him, yet 
he overpowered them all ; his arm was indeed irresistible; 
in the general opinion no other allies* were necessary, 
for aid was more likely to enfeeble than to support hi i. — • 
and the advice therefore of an acute writer was literally 
followed : — 



In resistless prose. 



Leave Burke Mone to thunder on our foes." 

Fursuitu of Literature. 

It was early remarked among his characteristics that 
to a perseverance not to be overcome, to the greatest 
original genius, and to extraordinary acquirements, he 

* An anecdote of one of the ablest, exhibits another instance 
of Mr. Burke's characteristic kindness. The present Serjeant 
Goold, of the Irish bar, then an aspiring but briefless barrister, 
excited by admiration of the " Reflections on the Revolution in 
France," and of their great author, and then lately returned 
from Paris, where he had witnessed the practical effects of the 
new system of liberty, wrote a reply to several of Mr. Burke's 
assailants. At this time he was wholly unknown to the latter 
Some time afterwards, however, he received in Dublin a letter 
from him, stating that he had not forgotten his obliging pamph- 
let, and that he begged leave to return the favour by giving him 
an introduction that might be serviceable to his interests ; for 
Earl Fitzwilliam, the new Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, being to 
spend a few days with him at Beaconsfield before his departure, 
if he would come over and join the party he might find the ex- 
cursion neither unpleasant nor unprofitable. Mr. Goold, after 
some difficulty in raising the material for the journey, came, but 
too late ; the society of such a man, however, well compensated 
the trouble ; and he returned to Dublin with such letters of in- 
troduction as would have had due weight, had the noble Earl 
continued in that government. 



Wii : LIFE OF THE 

joined in the discussion of a subject unusual comprehen- 
siveness of outline with minute knowledge and accuracy 
of detail. The reader of his Works will be frequently 
led to the same consideration by observing his eagerness 
to embrace the u hole of a subject, to leave no part of it 
unsifted, to place it in every variety of light, and apply 
every possible illustration ; to turn it back and front, in- 
side and out, upside and down, so that no point likely to 
afford aid to the investigation of truth shall pass unex- 
amined. This, which is one of the first merits of a fair 
disputant, was also his natural disposition. He cannot 
bear, apparently, to blink or narrow a question, even 
when doing so may be supposed favourable, to his views, 
but sometimes gives the first hint of a difficulty in order 
show his skill in overcoming it. It is contrary to the na- 
ture of the man to be pent up \a ithin a small compass ; 
he must have room ; give him vent or he continually 
threatens to explode and overwhelm you. He can no 
more be thrust up into the straitened corner of a subject 
— a trick which the practised debater' and reasoner plays 
off on the more inexperienced — [han you can squeeze an 
elephant into the cage of a parrot; for the cast of his 
frame is too ponderous, and his perceptions too acute, to 
submit to be caught in a trap which is commonly set to 
hamper the unwary. He seldom takes a topic in hand 
without so far exhausting it that we find little interest, and 
frequently very little profit, in following any one else in 
the same track of argument. 

One of his chief excellencies is in being an original and 
profound thinker. He continually strikes out something 
which is either new, or new in the connexion in which 
it stands, and has contrived to throw together more nu- 
merous and important political truths, intermixed with a 
great variety of moral .truths drawn irom acquaintance 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 465 

with the world, than any other writer on public affairs. 
The same profundity of thought which qualifies him to 
make so mapy discoveries in his progress, enablesi him 
also to dispel errors. He traces a proposition up to its 
source, and from its source through all its ramifications, 
so that if there be a fallacy in any part he is pretty sure to 
detect it. Axioms and opinions relative to our domestic 
politics, which were scarcely ever before doubted, are no 
sooner touched by him than they prove to be weak or 
questionable : several which might be mentioned he has 
wholly overthrown. 

The desire thoroughly to clear the way before him, to 
afford the fullest information, and to leave nothing unex- 
plained or unanswered, has given rise to the charge of his 
being diffuse. Diffuseness, however, implies something 
of vveakness and verbosity; and he must be a hardy critic 
who shall venture to declare that these are in any degree 
characteristic of his writin^^s. He may be full ; unne- 
cessarily so perhaps in the opinions of some, but this 
abundance presents ample matter for the exercise of the 
understanding ; there is no accumulation of sentences to 
spin out a thought, no mere verbiage; but on all occasions 
a corresponding influx of ideas which open out great 
truths, enlarge the bounds, or add to the particulars, of 
knowledge, or unveil the latent springs of human passions 
and actions as they operate on those human institutions 
which so much of his life was employed in improving or 
defending; and make us not merely wiser politicians but 
much wiser men. 

We rise from the perusal satisfied that we have not 
spent our time in discussions merely applicable to tem- 
porary or party interests. There is a conviction of know- 
ing what we did not know fjefore, of feeling something 
which we did not before feel, like permanent enlarge- 
3 N 



166 LIFE OF THfc, 

ment of mind ; and this probably arises from the influence 
of that combination of qualities which constitute his pe- 
culiar greatness ; by finding blended genius vvith know- 
ledge ; elegance of exposition with depth of thought; in- 
genuity with perseverance ; principles with facts ; philo- 
sophy with practical politics; maxims of abstract wisdom, 
with those of his own experience among jnen, serving to 
bear upon, to illustrate, and to explain each other. To 
this task the mere politician, or the mere philosopher, 
would have been wholly incompetent ; it is the rare union 
of the characters which gives the great value to his writ- 
ings, causing them to be quoted every night in both 
Houses of Parliament, as the greatest authority of our 
time. And the testimony cannot well be disputed as 
partial, when it is borne by Whigs and Tories, by Mi- 
nistry and Opposition, by all grades in political opinion, 
Lords Grenville, Londonderry, and Erskine, and every 
other man of talents and celebrity, having united (in this 
instance at least if in no other) to pronounce them, in 
their place in Parliament, immortal. 

Their influence upon the public mind at large has long 
been admitted. To them we owe not only much of that 
system of policy w hich has saved England and all Eu- 
rope from that subjugation which France, whether influ- 
enced by National Convention, Directory, Consuls, or 
Emperor, attempted, but also the chief arguments in 
support of that policy urged in Parliament during the 
last twenty years. On a variety of other great questions 
of national interest, Mr. Burke's influence is nearly as 
great. He has anticipated much of what is daily urged 
on such subjects, and many even of the most brilliant 
passages, in the very best speeches in both Houses, 
whether in reasoning or in .rhetorical art and address, are 
immediately obvious to the,diligent reader of his Works, 



SIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 467 

as but repetitions of his thoughts and manner; sometimes 
in his own language, often with little variation, the speak- 
ers probably not aware at the moment of the source 
whence they borrow. 

The same remark applies to several of our popular 
writers, miscellaneous asvvell as those devoted to the 
discussion of public affairs — -pamphletteers, reviewers, 
and political essayists. His Works form their chief 
stock in trade, the mine from uhich is dug out their most 
sterling one, the aliment on which they exist ; the bread 
and beef, and wine, on which they daily feed and fatten; 
his ideas dissected out of their connecting positions, and 
hashed up in some new form to suit the particular tastes 
of the writers, or the voracious appetite of the public, for 
something new and strong and striking, but still sub- 
stantially his ideas. Few have grace enough fully to 
acknowledge their obligations. 

His phraseology is another characteristic and popular 
feature on which contributions are levied in all the popu- 
lar publications of the age, to an extent of which many 
readers have little conception. They are of a very origi- 
nal cast, unusually forcible, expressive, and often con- 
dense much meaning within a small conipass. In the 
use of epithets he is too free and unguarded ; they were 
mostly the offspring of vehement feeling in debate, but 
at any time, perhaps, form a weak point in oratory, as 
being open to the charge of exaggeration, or to contra- 
diction, reprehension, and sometimes to ridicule. 

He is almost the first of our writers (Junius it will be 
remembered was a contemporary) who has thrown the 
rays of genius and eloquence over political discussion ; 
previous to his time, a political book, and a dull book 
were nearly synonymous terms. Lord Bolingbroke is 
perhaps the only exception, though many do not admit 



468 LIFE OF THE 

him to be an exception, as his writings, political and 
philosophical, are nearly forgotten ; and he has neither 
the firm ground-work in truth, the vigour of reasoning 
and language, or variety and splendour of genius of Mr. 
B'.irke, who excels in communicating much information, 
with little sense of fatigue to the mind, subjects not in 
themselves of the most enlivening description, acquiring 
spirit and vivacity under his management ; for while his 
argument clears the road, his flashes of genius and his 
wit enliven, his imagination adorns it. Scarcely any other 
man but himself could have produced such speeches on 
the unpromising topics of economical Reform, and on the 
debts of the Nai^ob of Arcot. 

A minute critic may find in the Works of Mr. Burke 
traces ofthree, or even more different sorts of styles, or 
shades of the same style. Thrt Letter to a Noble Lord, 
a considerable part of the R-fl-ctions on the Revolution 
in France, and large portions of his Speeches, may be 
taken as specimens of a hii^hly poetical and impassioned 
style: the Thoughts on the Discontents, the Letter to 
the Sheriffs of Bristol, to Sir Hercules Langrishe, and 
others on Irish and- French Affairs, with the Thoughts 
on Regicide Peace; and perhaps the Essay on the Sub- 
lime and Beautiful, as coming under the denomination of 
his middle style : the Charges against Mr. Hastings, 
which are drawn up with uncommon skill, the Addresses 
to the King, and to the Americans, on the proposed Se- 
cession from Parliament, the Historical Articles in the 
Annual Rei^ister for several years, and his Abridgment 
of English History, as his plainest or grave style. The 
Vindication of Natural Society, and the Account of the 
European Setdements in America, differ perhaps in some 
degree from each of these as w ell as from each other. 

His letters belong to his plain style. In nothing are 



RIGHT HON. Edmund burke. 469 

his powers more evident than in his correspondence kept 
up with the most eminent men in the countrv, and with 
a few foreigners of distinction, some of which have been 
already published, and others of high character are to 
appear ; though few can be expected to exceed the letters 
to Barry. They partake generally of much of the in- 
structive character of his writings, and the. same force of 
observation, often expressed with more elegance than he 
employs in his publications; some of them amount almost 
to disquisitions on the subjects they touch, especially on 
public affairs and on criticism, without losing materially 
in ease. In vivacity, which many esteem the chief recom- 
mendation of a familiar letter-writer, he is deficient, evi- 
dently not from want of power, but of inclination to deal 
in mere pleasantry upon paper; his aim was rather to 
inform than to amuse. ' 

Allusions have been made to a vulgar and frequent 
error — frequent at least among those who know little of 
the original, or who confound two things essentially dif- 
ferent — that his style is flovAery. Not only is this not the 
case, but it may be questioned whether it can be called 
an ornamented style, all the common characters of such 
a style being at variance with those which distinguish the 
productions of Mr. Burke. It may rather be termed an 
impassioned style, the product of ardent genius and 
strong feeling, studded with some bold figures, not laid 
on for the sake of ornament, but springing out of the in- 
tensity of his conceptions ; meant not to adorn, but to 
convey a more perfect image to the mind. Of these 
figures much is occasionally said; they are, however, less 
remarkable for number than for a certain daring original- 
ity of feature found in no other orator, and which, while 
they sink deep into the mind, are often recalled by me- 
mory as things worthy of recollection, when the same 



470 LIFE OF THE 

idea expressed in common language would have been 
forgotten as soon as heard. A figure, therefore, such as 
Mr. Burke commonly uses, is much more than an orna" 
ment; it is an appeal to the judgment through the attrac- 
tive medium of the imagination; he scarcely ever in using 
them aims at the beautiful ; almost always at the great, 
the striking, the sublime ; often eminently happy in their 
nature, now and then, though rarely, rather strained, oc- 
casionally unseemly, but always forcible. 

He deals sparingly in antithesis, scarcely ever in cli- 
max ; sometimes in personification and apostrophe ; in 
interrogatory he is often powerful, but his taste in pur- 
suing a simile too far may at times afford matter for dis- 
pute. His favourite and most brilliant figure is metaphor, 
and in this he is frequently amenable to criticism from its 
being imperfect or broken, offending in this way, like all 
great and original minds, against the strict canons of art, 
yet overpowering them all by his genius. An instance 
of this mingled beauty and imperfection may be taken 
at random. He is alluding to the bickerings with Ame- 
rica, excited by Mr. George Grenville, whose character 
he is sketching, and whom he represents to have under- 
stood more of business and of the forms of office on com- 
mon occasions, than of enlarged and prudent policy on 
great emergencies — 

" These forms are adapted to ordinary occasions, and 
therefore persons who are nurtured in ofiice do admirably 
well as long as things go on in their common order ; 
but xvhen the high roads are broken up, a?id the waters 
are out^ when a new and troubled scene is opened, and the 
file affords no precedent, then it is that a greater know- 
ledge of mankind, and a far more ext^sive comprehen- 
sion of things, is requisite, than ever office gave, or than 
office can ever give." Public discontent and confusion 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BUR'KE. H^i 

©verspreading the country like a vast inundation, and 
eflfaoingall the beacons which usually guide us, is a noble 
idea ; but something of the metaphorical grandeur is lost 
by being joined to the literal reality of the " file of office." 

An instance of strained metaphor has been already 
partially quoted in allusion to what he thought the over- 
done economy of Mr. Pitt, in some regulations proposed 
in 1785 — " He (Mr. Pitt) chooses to suppose (for he does 
not pretend more than to suppose) a naked possibility 
that he shall draw some resource out of crumbs dropped 
from the trenchers of penury ; that something shall be 
laid in store from the short allowance of revenue officers 
overloaded with duty, and famished for want of bread ; 
by a reduction from officers, who are at this very hour 
ready to batter the Treasury/ with what breaks through 
stone walls, for an increase of their appointments. From 
the marrowless bones of these skeleton establishments, 
by the use of every sort of cutting, and of every sort of 
fretting tool, he flatters himself that he may chip and rasp 
an empirical alimentary powder, to diet into some simi- 
litude of health and substance the languishing chimeras 
of fraudulent reformation." The metaphorical allusions 
in the first sentence of this passage are unobjectionable 
and forcible ; in the second they pass into the simile, 
and appear constrained and unnatural, though applicable 
most minutely to every part of the character he had given 
of the bill in the previous portion of his speecJi : this in- 
stance may be scarcely fair, as it is the most constrained 
figure in his Works. 

Trivial imperfections of this kind, amid specimens re- 
markable for fitness and correctness, detract little from 
the merit of an orator ; abstracted from the subject they 
may be open to objection, but taken along with it few 
readers think them worthy of notice, and fewer still would 



4^7"^ LIFE OF THE 

Avish them expunged. An imperfect metaphor forms in- 
deed fine food for the indignation of the critic who fastens 
upon the unhappy offender as he would upon a thief 
caught in the act of purloining his property, and com- 
monly handles him with litde less mercv. B jt, after all, 
it may be doubted whether much of this critical horror 
does not partake of the character of learned trifling ; for 
if v\ e appeal to experience, to the facts furnished every 
day by the intercourse of life and business, we find that 
though metaphors are in continual use by all ranks of peo- 
ple, few of them when examined are critically perfect* 
To be so, they mostly require to be studied, and the 
most beautiful require it the most. In extemporaneous 
oratory, such as we usually hear in the British Senate, 
this is iiot to be expected ; he who would stop in the career 
of his argument to labour a metaphor with minute point 
and polish, might gain the reputation of a sensitive critic, 
but he would probably gain no other. Few writers, per- 
haps, would desire to see their ideas submitted to the 
world in their first words, and still greater allowances 
ought to be made for the orator. 

A charge has been brought against him from high au- 
thority (Dugald Stewart, Esq.) that though confessedly 
one of the greatest masters of the English language, he 
often debases his style by the intermixture of cant and 
colloquial words and allusions. The fact of such inter- 
mixture may be true, but I should draw a different infer- 
ence from their use; it is but fair at least, before we wholly 
condemn his practice, to consider his object. 

Having sometimes to address a popular assembly, in- 
telligent, and v\ell educated indeed, but still essendally 
popular, and at other times the public at large, upon 
topics which intimately concerned the welfare of all, and 
with which all were, or fancied they were, acquainted, 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 473 

he aimed, as already hinted, at being strong rather than 
dignified, bold, clear, and intelligible, rather than refined, 
mastering their opinions by his power rather than by his 
elegance, omitting nothing which he thought might in- 
fluence them, and for this purpose calling in the aid of 
the most familiar, perhaps homely, associations. Like 
Swift, another of our most pou erful w riters, he was de- 
termined at whatever cost or sacrifice, though he never, 
like him, descends to gross abuse and coarseness, to 
make a deep and indelible impression. He conceived 
deeply and felt strongly, and would not weaken their 
force by any thing like squeamishness of expression ; he 
was too prone perhaps to the use of the vulgar tongue in 
epithets, though not in sentiment. (Oratory, however, 
has a license in language which is denied to history, to 
criticism, to judicial statements and investigations, or to 
the philosophical treatise ; in the former, therefore, if his 
taste, judged by his own practice, be often faulty, the er- 
ror probably arose from an exaggerated idea of his privi- 
lege, as under the other heads just mentioned, his History, 
the Essay on the Sublime, and the Articles of Charge 
agaiqst Mr. Hastings, the style is unobjectionable ; in 
the latter indeed so precise and appropriate, that ihough 
occupying an oc;|avo volume and a half, I do not remem- 
ber (\vhat many, from the common idea entertained of 
Mr. Burke, will scarcely believe) meeting with but one 
or two inetaphorical allusions, and nothing too familiar 
or colloquial. 

It is likewise urged with much more force, that he is 
too liberal in the use of terms borrowed from art and 
science, as, though serving to give variety to imagery, 
they may not be so universally intelligible. It is rare, 
however, that they are beyond general comprehension ; 
but he certainly levies upon all professions and occupa- 
3 O 



474 LIFE OF THE 

tions without scruple ; upon the divine, the morahst, the 
philosopher, the physician, the astronomer, the chemist, 
the mathematician, the lawyer, the surgeon, the farmerj 
the soldier, the seaman, and many others, down even to 
the baker, and butcher, instances of all of which may be 
collected from his works. His nautical allusions, gleaned 
probably from Lord Keppel, Sir Charles Saunders, and 
other intimate naval friends, are numerous, and applied 
with more propriety than a landsman can usually accom- 
plish ; as in "trimming the ship," in " heaving the lead 
every inch of way I made," a metaphor strongly expres- 
sive of the care and caution exerted upon the economical 
Reform Bill ; in lawyers (who are said to bend their eyes 
by instinct on the peerage) " casting their best bower an- 
chor in the House of Lords," and many others. In sur- 
gery, the terms " solution of continuity," and " working 
off the slough of slavery," may not be so easily under- 
stood, as •* the broad-cast swing of the arm," of the far- 
mer, and the supposed questions of the agrarian butchers 
of the Duke of Bedford's acres — *' how he cuts up ?" 
" how he tallows in the cawl or on the kidneys." 

Another resource for his exuberant genius was the use 
of scriptural phraseology, sometimes unjustifiably so, cer- 
tainly without the least idea of irreverence, but to those 
who did not know him or make allowance for his sallies, 
conveying something of that impression ; as in calling 
Lord Hillsborough's Letter to the Colonies during the 
disputes, *' a canonical book of ministerial scripture, — 
the epistle general to the Americans;" " it is good for us 
to be here;" " brother Lazarus is not dead, but sleepeth;" 
and many more. If the language of sacred writ be ever 
admissible in general dii>cussions— -and the propriety of 
the practice is very doubtful — it is perhaps least objec- 
tionable when used by a great orator on a great occasion. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 475 

affecting the general interests of nations, or of large bo- 
dies of the community, and when neither the speaker 
nor the subject is likely to degrade it. Lord Chatham 
used it freijuently. To any one indeed who has a proper 
relish for a high order of literary beauty, it requires some 
self denial not to seize upon phrases which seem to stand 
so opportunely in the way ; for they recur continually to 
the memory, they are in themselves often sublime, always 
expressive, and have the advantage of being universally 
familiar. 

Add this, however, to his other literary sins — to " his 
prolific imagination, which, (in the language of Mr. Pitt) 
had so long been the wonder and pleasure of the House," 
to his irregular or broken figures, to his occasional dally- 
ing with his subject, to the too frequent use of terms of 
art, to his frequent invective, to the introduction of un- 
dignified and colloquial expressionb — and to how little do 
they all amount? On the other hand, where shall we 
find among orators and statesmen so much depth and 
originality of thought, fulness of information, variety of 
diction, vigour of expression, bold and sublime imagery; 
so much of grandeur* and energy of eloquence, or of 
beautiful and impressive writing ? 



HIS LEADING PUBLIC PRINCIPLES. 

As a statesman, Mr. Burke's distinguishing policy is 
to be traced in his speeches and writings. These, as 

* " Junius," somewhere observes an acute critic, (Mr. Haslett,) 
who will not be suspected of undue partiality to Mr. Burke, •' is 
the first of his class, but that class is not the highest. Junius's 
manner is the strut of a petit-maitre, Burke's the st Ik of a giant; 
if grandeur is not to be found in Burke, it is to be found nowhere,'' 



476 LIFE OF THE 

forming a valuable manual for reference to future legis- 
lators and ministers of the country, will be consulted for 
the opinions which they teach, and the difficulties they 
tend to solve, for their vigour and eloquence as compo- 
sitions, for clear and enlarged views on great constitution- 
al questions, for a thorough acquaintance with the duties 
of rulers and subjects in their various relations of obe- 
dience and control. To all his ideas on these points 
universal assent may not be given, nor was their justice 
always admitted at the time. But experience has proved 
they were grounded in sound judgment, in a penetrating 
and prospective spirit — the first qualities beyond all others 
for ihose who fill public stations, and for the want of 
which no others can compensate — and in a wisdom not 
abstruse or perplexed, but in its application obvious and 
easy. 

It was peculiar to him — one of the many distinctions 
which belonged to his character — that, possessed of a 
fancy and imagination singularly brilliant, of vast stores 
of knowledge, of a liberal and philosophical turn of mind, 
added to having passed much time among books — all 
the elements which unite to compose a beautiful system- 
maker and imposing theorist, produced to him a directly 
opposite effect. He would admit of no innovating spe- 
culations into the business of government. He was, if 
any man was, a practical man. He professed to build, 
as the wise of all times have done, upon the basis of his- 
tory and experience. " 1 prefer the collective wisdom 
of ages," said he, alluding to Mr. Put and Mr. Fox, *' to 
the abilities of any two men living;" but this wojld have 
done little, w ithout that happy conformation of mind to 
discriminate between the deductions to be drawn from it; 
between what to apply to use, and what was inapplicable. 
He entertained for ancient institutions that respect and 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 477 

admiration which, all sober minds feel when these institu- 
tions have been productive of good ; and as long as the 
effects continued the same, he disapproved of attempts 
to alter the practice. 

His aim, therefore, in our domestic policy was to pre- 
serve things in the main, as they are; for the simple rea- 
son that under it the nation had become great and pros- 
perous. Not to shut our eyes to abuse — ^his whole life, 
he said, had been spent in resisting and repealing abuses 
— but to amend deliberately and cautiously; to innovate 
not at all, for innovation was not reformation ; to overturn 
nothing which had the sanction of time and many happy 
days in its favour ; to correct and perfect the superstruc- 
tures, but to leave all the foundations, the antiquity of 
which was a guarantee of their stability in opinion, sacred 
and unharmed. " The love of things ancient," says 
Hooker, " doth argue stayedness ; but levity and want of 
experience maketh apt unto innovations." Bacon thought 
time the great innovator ; Mr. Burke seemed to think 
that in the nice connexions between the supreme autho- 
rity and the people, he was the chief or only one who 
could act without exciting jealousy. He did not regard 
a form of government as good because it was plausible 
upon paper, but rather looked to its workings ; to effects 
rather than to principles ; to benefit to the people, as it 
was obvious to the sense, rather than to perfection in the 
theories on which it was believed to be founded. He 
believed that no material deviation in the mode of go- 
verning a community could take place without danger; 
and the event of the first great political struggle in which 
he was engaged, evinced the accuracy of this opinion. 
His constant admonition to England respecting America 
was — talk not of your abstract rights of government ; I 
hate the very sound of them ; foUpvv experience and 



478 LIFE OP THE 

common sense ; desist from the innovation you are now 
attempting; do as you have always done before, in per- 
mitting her to tax herself; and in all ordinary circum- 
stances of the world the effc^cts will be the same — peace, 
security, and attachment.* 

This minute attention to the uses and habits which 
unite governors and governed, and of which the vene- 
ration he expressed for the component parts of our con- 
stitution formed a natural part, though represented by 
the party to whom he stood opposed in 1791, as the 
effects of a narrow and fettered system, will by others be 
deemed the strongest proof of enlarged wisdom. The 
natural frame of his politics indeed was of the most ex- 
panded cabt. He always conieudctd tor a liberal and 
conciliatory Ihie of conduct in national questions, a disre- 
gard of small and temporary benefits for the sake of great 
and permanent interests, seeming to think that Engiand 
might lose by selfishness, but never had sustained injury 
by kindness and generosity. For this reason he would 
not run the risk of losing the American continent for the 
sake of a revenue which even, if acquired, he early per- 
ceived, could be no more than nominal. From the same 



* An eminent American, talking not long ago to an acquain- 
tance of Mr. Burke, said, " Had the advice of your illustrious 
friend been followed at the beginning of our contest, 1 do not 
positively say that America at this day would have been yours, 
though in very wise hands and with concessions to her, even 
this might have been possible. But 1 am very sure that our se- 
paration would have been more easy, more imperceptible, more 
good-humoured, and possibly linked together by mutual interests 
as strongly as by dominion. Burke would have saved your 
country much bloodshed, above one hundred millions of money, 
and more than that, prevented a hostile feeUng between the 
nations which may never be allayed." 



EIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 479 

Spirit he called for concession to the Irish legislature, to 
her oppressed and restricted commerce, and to her vast 
body of Roman Catholic subjects : For justice and future 
security to the people of India ; for liberty of conscience 
to the dissenters ; for the relief of small debtors ; for the 
suppression of general warrants ; for the abolition of the 
slave trade ; for the extension of the power of juries ; for 
the liberty of publishing the parliamentary debates ; for 
the re-establishment of Mr. Wilkes in his seat for Mid- 
dlesex ; for the enactment of Mr. Grenville's most useful 
bill, regulating controverted elections, which met with 
much unaccountable opposition, and found in Mr. Burke 
one of its ablest supporters ; for the Nullum Tempus act, 
securing the property of the subject against dormant 
claims of the crown ; for another which he endeavoured 
to carry against similar claims of the church; for retrench- 
ing the public expenditure without parsimony toward 
public servants and services, or infringing upon the dig- 
nity of the crown ; for a more unrestrained system of 
commercial intercourse ; for a more generous policy to- 
ward France and the French princes in the earlier part 
of the war than Mr. Pitt was inclined to show ; and in 
innumerable other instances on record, all indicating 
love to popular interests, and to the most enlarged and 
liberal views. In most of these his understanding had 
the post of honour ; it did not follow, but lead the public 
voice. He had, in fact, an unfeigned contempt for states- 
men without *' large, liberal, and prospective views," for 
what he called " mechanical politicians," and " pedlar 
principles." " Littleness in object and in means," said 
he, seeming to hint at some of the Ministry or their con- 
nexions in 1796, *' to them appears soundness and so- 
briety. They think there is nothing worth pursuit but 
thut which they can handle ; which they can measure 



480 LIFE OF THE 

\vith,a two-foot rule ; which they can tell upon ten finf- 
gers." 

At no period did he assume the character of what is 
called a flaming patriot, having on the contrary early de- 
clared in the House of Commons " that being warned by 
the ill effects of a contrary procedure in great examples,'^ 
(he had the Karl of Bath and some others in his eye at 
the moment) " he had taken his ideas of liberty very 
low ; in order that they should stick to him, and that he 
might stick to them to the end of his life." Averse there- 
fore to professions of patriotism, few statesmen paid more 
attention to the substance ; and in pursuing what he 
thought the true inter,ests of the people, never very ea- 
gerly sought, and perhaps never much valued popular 
applause, especially if to obtain it required the sacrifice of 
a single principle, or a point of sound wisdom. He did 
not seem so much openly to despise, as tacitly to consider 
it a species of testimony to merit which seldom extends 
its influence to the page of history, where alone the de- 
serts of a great man are justly balanced, and receive their 
due reward. In the eyes of many he was, so far as his 
personal interests were concerned, over- tenacious in never 
surrendering his own to popular opinion. 

The same enlightened patriotism, superior to all party 
considerations, which proffered support to government 
during the riots in 1780, " when (as he says) wild and 
savage insurrection quitted the woods and prowled about 
our streets in the name of reform," brought him forward 
with irresistible power in the still more fearful crisis pro= 
duced by the great convulsion in a neighbouring country. 
There was at all times a gallant spirit, a kind of old-fash- 
ioned generosity about Mr. Burke, which, whenever he 
saw one branch of the constitution, or an order of the 
community, pressed down or threatened by the others. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKB. 481 

tnade him fling himself into the lighter scale, to restore, 
if possible, the equipoise. Such was his conduct on this 
most important of all occasions. He thought it his duty 
to stand in the breach, even if alone ; to reason, and, if 
necessary, to contend with his former companions, misled 
beyond the line of prudence by the enthus":'S n of the mo- 
ment ; to appeal from Philip drunk to Philip sober ; to 
pronounce aloud the warning voice to the people at large, 
should they labour under the same delusion ; — of the 
mischiefs which, not their neutrality merely, but their 
good sense and decided hostility were required to pre- 
vent. The results were a violent clamour against him 
for assaulting the cause of liberty. What species of li- 
berty it was which he is said to have assaulted, is never 
ventured to be explained, but it may be fairly inferred it 
was that of France in 1793. What the liberty was which 
he defended and appn^ved is more clear, for he has told 
us pretty explicitly — it was English liberty — it was that 
system of things which secured to every order in the state, 
to the monarchy, the aristocracy, and the people, and to 
every person within those orders, the full enjoyment of 
as many rights, as full security, and as much freedom of 
action, as was consistent with the same rights, the same 
security, and the same freedom of action, to every other 
order and individual. 

For reprobating the former and supporting the latter he 
was accused of inconsistency, as if between the practice 
of France and the practice of England there prevailed the 
slightest affinity — wide as vice and virtue, as wrong and 
ritht asunder. The distinction he drew between them, 
and the election he made of the latter, required no efforts 
of subtlety, but were the ordinary results of sound sense 
and a clear understanding. Attached to the monarchy 
from principle and conviction, and brought forward in 
3 P 



48S LIFE OF THE 

life by the aristocracy, he professed for both a warm 
though not a " slavish respect," and in the moment of 
need did them service which never can be repaid, and 
which ought never to be forgotten. As one sprang from 
the middle rank of the people he wished to preserve it 
respectable, unawed by the tyranny (as in France) of the 
mob. Sincere in the veneration of .religion, he contem- 
plated the spoliation of its institutions first, and subse- 
quent extinction, as a principle of belief in that country, 
with horror. Exemplary in the performance of his social 
and moral duties, he could not see thom involved in the 
general ruin of every thing decent and valuable, without 
the strongest indignation. He was arrived too at an age 
when the judgment, in matters of government, is out of 
the reach of crude schemes and more juvenile follies ; 
when the lust of innovation, if it has ever prevailed in the 
mind, is cooled by the calculations of experience. His 
practical knowledge of states, and governments, and the 
conflicting interests and passions of politicians, had been 
laboriously earned, his observation keen ; his powers to 
combine, analyse, and deduce important truths from the 
contemplation of the whole, great, as it appeared beyond 
example. Looking at such a man in the abstract, with- 
out previously knowing wh^t part he c/zc/ take, no doubt 
could be entertained of the part he would take. 

After all, the greatest and most useful of his many gifts 
was that capacity to point out consequences, which, going 
beyond wisdom, became ahnost prescience. In this point he 
stands alone ; no other statesman has approached him, or 
is likely so to do, in the exercise of the same faculty. His 
predictions, though so numerous and various, and which 
at first, by their boldness, afforded matter for surprise, 
became, by their fulfilment to the letter in almost every 
instance, a subject of general astonishment; though the 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 483 

French Revolution was by no means the first occasion on 
which this quality was developed. An attentive inquirer 
will find it marked in most of the great events ot" his pub- 
lic life. 

He lived just long enough to find himself acknowledg- 
ed the prince of political prophets ; to see the reprobation 
he had ventured to pass on the most remarkable event of 
modern times more than justified by the horrid scenes to 
which it had given rise; to confirm the body of the na- 
tion in the belief that it had acted wisely, and to convince 
many of the opposite party their judgment had been 
wrong. Had he even erred in estimating the dangers 
which threatened our own institutions, it would be diffi- 
cult to blame his caution. A government like that of 
England, commonly upright in design, in the main pure 
in practice, and under which the people have become 
great, free, and prosperous, is entitled to our best exer- 
tions in moments of peril, notwithstanding trivial errors, 
which, after all, interfere with no fundamental right of 
the people, and which it is easier to point out than to re- 
medy. The fabric of all constitutions, and perhaps of 
our own especially, is valuable only when the nsaterials 
which compose it are in close union ; disunited they are 
nearly valueless. It was the praise of Mr. Burke to tie 
them more closely at a moment when the mistakes of 
some, and the designs of others, threatened to sever them 
for ever, and by this one merit, which is only one item 
in a long list of public services, has left a name as impe- 
rishable as the country he adorned and saved. 

Let it be supposed on the other hand that his mind 
had been less happily regulated, that his wisdom or pa- 
triotism had been less enlarged, that he had fallen in with 
the views of the theorists, and the mob, in order to ren- 
der them a stepping stone to place, or even to criminal 



484 LIFE OF THE 

schemes ; that deluded by a spirit of insane ambition he 
had led the van, supported by Paine and so many hun- 
dreds of other incendiaries and dreamers of no ordinary 
rank and talents, to batter down the venerable institutions 
of the land in expectation of rising upon the ruins, — there 
is little doubt but he might have accomplished such de- 
signs. With all his assistance the struggle was arduous ; 
with his energies exerted against it, we should now pro- 
bably have no constitution to find fault with, and no coun- 
try, not an independent one at least, to claim. 

As a minister, for the short time he was in office, he 
was punctual, laborious, and disinterested in an unusual 
degree. His Reform bill was the most important mea- 
sure carried through Parliament during the century, whe- 
ther we consider the actual saving of money, the regula- 
tion of office, or the abolition of places which might have 
been rendered sources of undue influence, or at any rate 
of suspicion, in the votes of thirty-six Members of the 
House of Commons — a number almost sufficient of them- 
selves to form a house. That he would have displayed 
a different spirit if placed in a more leading department 
of government, there is no reason to believe ; his integrity 
of purpose was never questioned. It is possible he might 
not have been popular. He showed too much zeal in 
urging favourite measures, and zeal in the eyes of the 
million is suspicious. He exhibited occasionally too 
much candour in disclosing the whole of his views in 
public propositions, while some others thought it more 
prudent to let .them slide into the world, like ill-news, 
piece- meal. And having never adopted a measure of 
great consequence except after intense consideration, and 
the clearest conviction of its being right, he could not- 
perhaps have yielded with a very good grace to public 
opinion, had it set in the contrary way. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 185 



MR. BURKE, MR. PITT, MR. FOX. 

It may be an object of inquiry amonsj those who look 
minutely to development of mind, to estimate the relative 
capacity and powers which these three great statesmen 
and orators displayed during their career, and the rank 
which they are likely to hold on the roll of history. No 
formal parallel will be attempted here ; each has his par- 
tizans, and each certainly possesses peculiar merits of 
his own. But as it is not the eminence of one or two 
faculties, but the general results of various excellence, 
that forms the criterion by which great men are usually 
judged and compared by posterity, so as in this view 
Cicero has been awarded the first place among the Ro- 
mans, and perhaps Greeks also, Mr. Burke is pretty cer- 
tain to take the same stand among the moderns. At 
present indeed, political feelings and partialities may 
tempt many to question this ; he is yet too near our own 
time. His great competitors have besides left their 
names as ivatch-words and rallying points to two great 
parties in the state, who, inspired by a sense of party hon- 
our and consequence, claim the same distinction each for 
its particular leader. But party feelings, at least towards 
individuals, seldom outlive the generation they influence j 
a century, or less, completely dissolves the spell ; men 
begin then to look around them for some better evidences 
of desert than the posses.sion of temporary power or popu- 
larity furnish. Fame indeed is a capricious offering; 
Milton had little or no reputation as a poet while he lived, 
and for years afterwards ; Dry den, not more then some 
other writers whose names are sunk in utter obscurity ; 
several men have almost governed our House of Com- 
mons, whose claim to such distinction no one now ac- 



186 LIFE OF THE 

knowleds^es : Mirabeau ruled the National Assembly, 
vet what historian will venture to class him amony: the 
good, or the truly great ? Even Demosthenes and Cicero 
during their lives only divided public apiJause with rivals 
whom none would now think of placing in comparison. 

No man has excelled, or possibly equalled Mr. Pitt 
in the management of the Cabinet, in a tact for l)usiness, 
in finance, in that uncommon dexterity which adapting 
itself, though without subserviency, at once to the wishes 
of the sovereign, and to the flucluatinjj feelings of the 
publ c, never, during so long a period of time, lost the 
confidence of either. His powers were only exceeded 
by his prudence. 

In no point of ability could Mr. Fox be deemed infe- 
rior, and in bursts of overpo^vefing eloquence was consi- 
dered often to have the advantage. Rut as a popular 
idol, as one born to lead a formidable party in Parliament, . 
and to extract out of casual political coadjutors devoted 
and enthusiastic personal friends, he stood alon^, and £ar 
above all other men. Mr. Burke never did; and iVir. 
Pitt, had it been his lot to labour during his life in the 
ungracious work of Opposition, never could have ap- 
proached^to an equality with him in this respect. His 
only wants, perhaps, were that caution and moderation in 
which Mr. Pitt excelled. 

Mr. Burke, on the other hand, in addition to displaying 
an equality with them in their most distinguished cha- 
racteristics, possessed other and various powers to which 
they had little pretension ; and considering that he had 
to fight his way in the House of Commons, from compa- 
rative obscurity, through vexatious jealousies and diffi- 
culties which never thwarted the career of his great com- 
petitors, and buoyed up sol; ly by his talents, he accom- 
plished more than they did for fame. A few, and but a 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 487 

few, of his principles of policy have been noticed ; the 
detail belongs to the history of the country, and would" 
require a larger volume than the present to itself. They 
embraced, during a period of thirty years, the whole of 
our foreign, colonial, and domestic relations, under every 
variety of form and situation ; his views extremely clear, 
more enlarged sometimes than those of Mr. Pitt, — more 
precise and accurate than those of Mr. Fox ; and though 
not infallible, no man has committed so few mistakes, 
who took so decided a part on such a multiplicity of sub- 
jects. It would be a hazardous matter to point out any 
gift or capacity, as a statesman, in which Mr. Burke was 
deficient ; in foresight, the first and most important of all, 
he confessedly far excelled his great contemporaries, and 
all his predecessors. 

The same superiority belongs to him in most of the 
natural and acquired powers necessary to constitute the 
great orator, and this is not merely the verdict of the 
tfnVzc, but he actually exhibited a power over his au- 
dience, sometimes in the House of Commons, and more 
than once in Westminster Hall, to which they never 
attained. Their oratory was often inferior to his in ex- 
tent of information, and always, in striking illustration, 
in the impression conveyed to the mind of greater wis- 
dom, in wit and ridicule, in pathos, in imagery, jn (an 
useful but sometimes dangerous power) force of invec- 
tive, above all in that kindling of genius, called by the 
critics the eloquence of passion, and which they deem 
essential to srreat success. In ordinarv business his 
powers u ere perhaps less conspicuous than in affairs of 
importance ; his speeches, at such times, imparted some- 
thing like the idea of an ocean of mind ; he did not lat- 
terly engage in, or like, the common routine of opposition, 
but, as has been said of Shakspeare, he was always great 
when a great occasion called for it. 



488 LIFE OP THE 

If in so many requisites, which go to the formation of 
^ distinguished political character, we find M--, Burke 
on a level, or above his great rivals in public ijfe, there 
are others of no slight moment in which comparison tells 
to their disadvantage. 

As a writer, it is scarcely necessary to advert to his 
vast superiority. Mr. Pitt, indeed, did not serious>ly 
contend for the honours of the press ; Mr. Fox composed 
slowly, and with labour, very unlike his mode of speak- 
ing, sometimes complaining of the difficulty of the pro- 
cess as almost vexatious; Mr. Burke was rapid in com- 
position, though patient in careful revision, and, indepen- 
dent of mere literary execution, there are more traces of 
vigour and originality of mind in any one of his pamphlets 
than in Mr. Fox's History. In the extent of his general 
knowledge he excelled them both. As a man of general 
genius (Sir Joshua Reynolds certainly had him in his 
eye in the definition of that quality,) who seemed capable 
of surpassing in any pursuit to which he chose to devote 
his attention, he excelled them. As a philosophical cri- 
tic, the Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful places him 
far above them ; and in that general truth of deduction 
from experience and from appearances, whether in the 
moral, natural, or political world, which constitutes the 
philosopher, his superiority is equally incontestible. In. 
powers of conversation he far excelled them. In a fine 
and correct taste for the arts he excelled them. In classical 
learning he was at least on a par with theirj ; and in classi- 
cal criticism, though Mr. Fox was an excellent critic, he 
had perhaps the advantage in depth and ingenuity. Even 
in epistolary communication, the business of some men, 
and the occasional occupation of all, the same marked 
superiority, whether in the familiar letter or the more 
formal exposition of public business, is as obvious as in 
any other of his talents. Of his pre-eminence over Mr. 



RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 4SQ 

Fox, with whom he has been more particularly compared 
in the various excellence constituting a very great man, 
Dr. Johnson, with characteristic precision, stated his con- 
viction in a single sentence ; " Sir,'' said he, alluding to 
some political opinions of Sir Joshua Reynolds, *' he is 
too much under the influence of the Fox (dog) star^ and 
the Irish constellation.'' Among politicians he is what 
Michael Angelo is among artists. 

Viewed in whatever light, he must always be consi- 
dered a most extraordinary man — extraordinary in his 
talents, in his acquirements, in his rise, in his progress, 
and in his end ; for the last efforts of his mind rise in 
power and in brilliancy over almost any of the preceding. 
He lived in a momentous time, and seemed made for 
such an occasion by the delight he felt in strong excite- 
ments, and the splendour of the exertions to which they 
gave rise. He may be considered- in politics what the 
great reformers were in religion, possessed of zeal, pow-- 
ers, and perseverance, altogether boundless, to influence 
at favourable moments, the minds of men from their 
customary channels of thought to such as he deemed 
more advantageous. He was peculiarly fitted for being 
the great presiding genius of a country, and his great 
contemporaries should have been his ministers; he should 
have originated measures, and they have carried them 
into execution. Public servants, as able as they were, 
and (if that be any criterion of merit) infinitely more sac- 
cessful, have been often seen in the world, but it has 
required two thousand years to produce one Cicero and 
one Burke. Great as his fame is, it is not probably near 
its height; calculated as he is, in the various characters 
of statesman, orator, and writer, to descend to a late 
period of time, to gain in reputation as he recedes from 
the fleeting animosities and prejudices of the day, and 
3Q 



490 LIFE OF THE RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. 

perhaps to excite regret and surprise that we should 
have had among us the great master-spirit in political 
prophesying and teaching, and not oftener have profited 
by his admonitions. 

" This I deliberately and steadily affirm," writes a 
learned man more than once quoted, after an animated 
eulogy on him as a critic and philosopher, " that of all 
the men who are, or who ever have been, eminent for 
energy or splendour of eloquence, or for skill and grace 
in composition, there is not one who, in genius or erudi- 
dition, in philanthropy or piety, or in any of the qualities. 
of a wise and good man, surpasses Burke." 

*' To whom," said Sheridan in his happier moments, 
** I look up with homage, whose genius is commensurate 
to his pliilanthropy, whose memory will stretch itself 
beyond the fleeting objects of any little, partial, temporary 
shufiling, through the whole range of human knowledge 
and honourable aspirations after human good, as large as 
the system which forms life, as lasting as those objects 
which adorn it." 



...sr..^. 



ADDENDA, 



Page 71 — Irish History. 

The opinion of Mr. Burke, besides the argument respecting 
the Irish Records with Hume, of facts being much misrepresented 
in all historical notices of that country, as an examination of the 
original documents would show, is stated in the fragments of his 
tract on the Popery Laws. He calls the Histories of Ireland 
" Miserable performances ;'' and adds, " But there is an interior 
History of Ireland, the genuine voice of its records and monu- 
ments, which speaks a very different language from these bisto- 
ries — from Temple and from Clarendon ; these restore ndture to 
its just rights, and policy to its proper order. For theg even now 
show to those, who have been at the pains to exaw'^^ them, and 
they may show one day to all the tcorld, that <;hese rebellions 
were not produced by toleration, but by persecution ; that they 
arose not from just and mild government, i!>ut from the most un- 
paralleled oppression. These records will be far from giving 
the least countenance to a doctrine so repugnant to humanity 
and good sense, as that the security of any establishment, civil 
or religious, can ever depend upon the misery of those who live 
under it, or that its danger can ever arise from their quiet and 
prosperity." — Burke's ffWks, vol. ix. p. 393. 

Page 245. — India Affairs. 

In June, 1783, Mr. Burke drew up the Ninth Report of the 
Select Committee of the House of Commons, for inquiring into 
the administration of justice in the provinces of Bengal, Bahar. 
and Orissa — a well digested, comprehensive, and instructive do- 



493 ADDENDA. 

cument, occupying 262 octavo pages. It embraces the state of 
the Company as it then stood ; their commerce, under the heads 
of internal and external ; and the government exercised under 
the charter, and under the different acts of parliament, consider- 
ed under similar heads of internal and external. The conduct 
of Mr. Hastings, on a variety of occasions, some of which were 
subsequently formed into charges against him, comes under an- 
imadversion ; and the curious history is given of offering his re- 
signation as Governor General, through his agent Mr. Macleanej 
and then utterly disclaiming such resignation, his agent, his own 
hand writing, containing his instructions to that effect, and even 
the testimony of two of his personal friends (Mr. Vansittart and 
Mr. John Stewart) witnesses of the directions given. 

The Eleventh Report of the same Committee, drawn up in 
the same year, is also the production of Mr. Burke, and relates 
to Mr. Hastings's alleged corrupt receipt of presente. 

Page 321.— Characteu of Henry IV. of France. 

[The following letter by Mr. Burke, which does not appear in 
bia Works, or in any other volumes connected with him, was 
addressed to M. Dupont, who complained that the character gi- 
ven of U\is great monarch in the " Reflections" was somewhat 
harsh. TLVe passage in question runs thus : " Henry of Navarre 
was a politic and active prince. He possessed indeed great 
humanity and madness; but an humanity and mildness that ne- 
ver stood in the vsay of his interests. He never sought to be 
loved without first putting himself in a way to be feared. He 
used soft language with iletermined conduct. He asserted and 
maintained his humanity in the gross, and distributed his acts 
of concession only in the detail. He spent the income of his 
prerogative nobly, but he took care not to break in upon the ca- 
pital ; never abandoning for a moment any of the claims which 
he made under the fundamental laws, nor sparing to shed the 
blood of those who opposed him, often in the field, sometimes 
upon the scaffold."] 

" Sir, 
"Yesterday I had the honour of receiving your letter, in 
which you desire that I may revise and soften the expressions 



ADDENDA. 493 

\Yhich I have made use of concerning Henry IV. King of France. 
I am not at all surprised at your request, for, since your child- 
hood, you have heard every one talk of the pleasing manners and 
mild temper of that prince. Those qualities have shaded, and 
almost obliterated, that vigilance and vigour without which he 
would never have either merited or enjoyed the title of Great. 
The intention of this is self evident. The name of Henry IV. 
recals the idea of his popularity; the Sovereigns of France are 
proud to have descended from this hero, and are taught to look 
up to him as to a model. It is under the shelter of his venera- 
ble name that all the conspirators against the laws, against reli- 
gion, and against good order, have dared to persuade their King 
that he ought to abandon all the precautions of power to the de- 
signs of ambition. After having thus disarmed, they have re- 
solved to deliver their Sovereign, his nobility, and his magis- 
trates (the natural supporters of his throne,) into the hands of 
thieves and of assassins. It is a long time since this plot was 
first formed. It was resolved to put it into execution according 
to circumstances ; and the mode adopted of everywhere suspend- 
ing the portraits of Henry IV. was one of the means employed 
for the success of the design — a means truly perfidious, as it 
holds out snares to the unwary, and catches mankind by the bait 
of their own virtues. 

" Every time that this politic Prince had occasion to deliver 
one of his insinuating harangues (which was very often,) he took 
particular care not to be too literal in his expressions. It was, 
I suppose, to a kind of assembly of notables that he spoke of his 
design to free himself entirely from their restraint. But wheu 
he employed these courtly threats, of which by the bye he was 
very liberal, he advanced his right foot, and, as he himself says, 
' always clapped his hand upon the hilt of his sword.' Those 
men, whose power is envied, and against whom violent factions 
are formed, cannot with safety be good in any other manner. 
Trajan, Marcus Aurelius, and all others in similar situations, 
who have dared to be virtuous, could never have enjoyed this 
arduous and critical pre-eminence but by inviolably pursuing all 
the means in their power of attracting respect, and of sustainin"-. 
their authority. Without this, they could not have exercised 
their benevolence. In such a situation a Prince may with safety. 



494 ADDENDA. 

and with as much sagacity as glory," divide his authority with 
his people, because then he has the power to divide it at his dis- 
cretion, and is not forced to abandon it. 

" Whatever may be the honour annexed to such a voluntary 
division, whatever may be the political motive that can induce a 
Sovereign to make such a sacrifice in certain cases, Henry IV. 
neither did the one nor the other; he never in any manner whatever 
parted with an atom of his authority. Did he ever leave it to 
the judgment of the citizens of Paris to determine the right which 
the laws of the kingdom gave him, of being their King and their 
Sovereign ? Did they ever enter into any treaty with him con- 
cerning his title to the throne ? Where is there in the long 
catalogue of the unlimited prerogatives of the King of France 
(be they just or unjust) an article which he ever abandoned, 
limited, or even submitted to inquiry? He would have been 
still more illustrious, if after having purchased and conquered 
his kingdom he had done this, and if he had become the founder 
of a regular constitution. Historical facts have not furnished 
me with the means of deciding in a proper manner, if ever he 
found himself in a situation to acquire this glory, or if he then 
could have made any attempts of that kind, with a greater 
degree of safety than has been done on a recent occasion. But 
it is very probable that he never had any of this kind. If you 
read the Memoirs of Sully with attention (and I suppose that 
the opinions of the Minister differed little from those of his 
master,) you will easily perceive that they were both royalists in 
all the extent of the expression, and, with some few exceptions, 
they constantly maintained that species of government. 

" As to the blood that Henry shed, he never spilt one drop 
more than was necessary for the maintenance of his right, which 
he on no occasion would submit to any species of popular deci- 
sion ; he however could kill when it was necessary. How many 
bloody battles did he not fight against the majority of the French 
nation ? How many cities did he not sack and pillage ^ Was 
his Minister ashamed of sharing the booty that fell into his 
hands? It is true, that while closely besieging his own capital, 
he relieved and protected the unfortunate families who, at the 
peril of their lives, sallied forth to gather a scanty harvest under 
the walls of this very capital. I approve this conduct, but it 



ADDENDA. 495 

does not inspire me with an enthusiastic admiration. He would 
have almost been a monster in cruelty, and an idiot in politics, 
had he done otherwise. But while he was so compassionate to 
a few wretches dying of hunger, one cannot forget that it was 
he himself who famished them by hundreds and by thousands, 
before he was in a situation to treat thus compassionately a few 
isolated individuals. It is true, indeed, that in starving Paris he 
did nothing but what was conformable to the right of war ; but 
that was a right which he enforced in all its plenitude. He 
followed the dictates of his heart and of his policy in the acts of 
compassion attributed to him ; as to the famine which he occa- 
sioned, it was in consequence of the position of his army. But 
can you support the panegyrists of Henry IV. in regard to this 
very siege of Paris, when you recollect the late deplorable scar- 
city, and above all, what has been done in consequence of that 
unhappy epoch ? Of the occurrences that followed I shall not 
speak at present, although I think that that ought to be done to 
inspire every honest heart with horror and indignation. 

" As to the * scaftbld,' it is impossible to decide at this moment 
whether it would not have been more prudent for Henry IV. to 
have saved the Marechal de Biron, instead of cutting oiF his head 
within the walls of the Bastille. He was under great obligations 
to this Marechal of France, as well as to his father; but Henry 
was less remarkable for his gratitude than his clemency. Ashe 
never shed blood but for just reasons, I suppose that he thought 
himself obliged to do it then, on account of the good of his people, 
and the security of his throne. It must be allowed, however, 
that If he had pardoned this rash and impetuous man, he would 
never have been reproached with this act of commiseration. If 
he imagined that the Marechal de Biron was capable of some of 
those scenes which we have lately seen exhibited in your king- 
dom; if he supposed that he might produce the same anarchy, 
the same confusion, and the same distress,* as the preliminaries 
to a humiliating and vexatioys tyranny, which we are on the 
point of beholding in France under the name of a Constitution ; 
it was right, very right, to cut, on its very formation, the very 
first thread of so many treasons ! 

" He would never have merited the crown that he acquired, 

• The allusion to the late Duke of Orleans io this passage is evident. 



496 ADDENDA. 

and which he wore with so much glory, if, interposing his com 
passion to defeat the preservative effects of a severe execution, 
he had scrupled to punish those traitors and enemies of their 
country, and of the human race ; for, believe me, there can be no 
virtue where there is no wisdom. Weakness only, that is to say, 
the parent and ally of crimes, would have allowed itself to be 
affected by misdeeds, which have a connexion with power, and 
which aim at the usurpation of a certain degree of authority. 
To pardon such enemies is to do the same thing as those who. 
attempt the destruction of religion, of the laws, of policy, of 
morality, of industry, of liberty, and of the prosperity of your 
country. If Henry IV. had such subjects as those who rule 
France at this very moment, he would do nothing more than his 
duty in punishing them. The present sovereign is in the situa- 
tion of a victim, and not the avenger of rebellion. It is rather a 
misfortune than a crime, that he has not prevented this revolution 
with that vigorous precaution, that activity, and that momentary 
decision, which characterised Henry IV. Louis XVI., according 
to what I hear and believe, has received from nature as perfect 
an understanding, and a heart as soft and humane, as his illus- 
trious ancestor. These are, indeed, the elements of virtue; but 
he was born under the canopy of a throne, and was not prepared 
by adversity for a situation, the trials of which the most perfect 
and the most absolute virtue could have scarce resisted. 

" As to the men, the means, the pretexts, the projects, the 
consequences arising from false plans and false calculations of 
every nature and every species, which have reduced this sove- 
reign to appear in no better light than an instrument for the 
ruin of his country — these are circumstances to be recorded and 
commented on by the historian. — These remarks. Sir, have been 
occasioned by reading your letter ; you may print them as an 
appendix to your work, or in whatever manner you please; or 
you may keep them for your own private satisfaction. I leave 
it entirely to your discretion. 

" I am, Sir, 

" Your very humble servant, 

" E. BuiiKE, 

" Beaconsfield, January 2d, 1791." 



ADDENDA. 497 



Page 361.— Negro Code. 

Since the preceding part of this work was printed off, the new 
regulations for the improvement of the condition of. the slaves in 
some of the West India Islands have been laid before Parlia- 
ment. They are the most wise and humane that could be adopt- 
ed. Nor is it perhaps their slightest recommendation to have 
been suggested by Mr. Burke so far back as 1780; for the rea- 
der, by referring to his Works, (vol. ix. p. 301.) will find them 
nearly a transcript from the fourth section, or head, of his Negro 
Code — another instance of what has been remarked more than 
once, that his wisdom was almost always in advance of the age in 
which he lived. 



Page 366. — French Clergy. 

[The following plain and dispassionate appeal to public libe- 
rality in favour of this distressed body, drawn up by Mr. Buike, 
and distributed in September, 1792, produced a handsome sub- 
scription ; it is given here on account of not appearing in any 
other volume connected with him.] 

" It is well known that a cruel and inhuman persecution is 
now and hath for some time past been carried on by a faction of 
atheists, infidels, and other persons of evil principles and dispo- 
sitions, calling themselves philosophers, against our brethren the 
christians of France- In this persecution, a vast multitude of 
persons of all ages, sexes, and conditions, and particularly the 
clergy, have suft'ered in a grievous manner. Many of them have 
been, with circumstances of great barbarity and outrage, put to 
death, and thpir hndies, according to the customs lately preva- 
lent in France, treated with savage indignities. 

"Several women, of whom some were of rank, dedicated to 
religion, in the peculiar exercise of a sublime charity, by an at- 
tendance on the sick in hospitals, have been stripped naked, and 
in public barbarously scourged. Thousands of other respectable 
religious women, mostly engaged in the education of persons of 
their own sex, and other laudable occupations, have been de- 
prived of their estates, and expelled from their houses, in which 
3 R 



498 ' ADDENDA. 

they had purchased a property by the portions given to them by 
their parents. These respectable women are many of them far 
advanced in years, and labouring under great infirmities ; the 
major part are at, or near, the declining period of life, and all 
are utterly inconversant in the affairs of the world, and in the 
means of procuring themselves any subsistence. They, by whose 
charity they scantily subsisted, under every species of insult, 
vexation, and oppression, before their expulsion from their 
houses by the philosophic faction, are now, for the most part, 
themselves obliged to fly their country, or are reduced to almost 
an equal degree of penury with those they had been accustomed 
to relieve. 

" Many thousands of the parochial clergy, after having been 
driven from their livings and houses, and robbed of their legal 
property, have been deprived of the wretched pensions which 
had been by public faith stipulated to be paid to them when that 
robbery and expulsion were ordered ; and have been exposed 
to perish by famine. Others, in very great numbers, have been 
arbitrarily thrown into unwholesome prisons, and kept there for 
a long time without any redress, against all law, and against the 
direct orders of the supreme magistrate of their new constitu- 
tion, whose duty it was to see that no illegal punishment should 
be executed. At length, after a tedious imprisonment, (suffered 
with a mildness, a patience, and a constancy which have not 
been denied by their very persecutors, whose rage, and malice, 
however, these examples of christian virtue have failed in the 
lea^t degree to mitigate,) the municipal bodies, or the factious 
cl6bs who appoint and guide them, have by their proper autho- 
rity transported into a foreign kingdom a considerable number 
of these prisoners in slave ships. At the same time, all the rest 
of the clergy, who by lying hid, or flying from place to place, 
have hitherto escaped conliiieinent ; and emleavouied in private 
to worship God according to their consciences, and the ancient 
fundamental laws of their country, are hunted out like wild 
beasts; and a decree of the National Assembly itself has now 
ordered them, in terms tlie most insulting and atrocious ever 
used by a public assembly, to quit the kingdom within fifteen 
days, without the least preparation and provision, or, together 
with those imprisoned, and not yet exiled, to be instantly trans 



ADDENDA. 499 

jjerted to the most wild, uncultivated, and pestiferous part of the 
whole globe; that is to Guiana, in South America. 

" All this has been done without calling upon one single per- 
son of the many thousands subject to this severe and iniquitous 
sentence, a*s well as to all the cruel preceding oppressions, to 
any specified offence or charge whatsoever. Several of the said 
clergy, some of whom are aged and infirm persons, to avoid im- 
prisonment and the other various vexations above mentioned, 
and in many cases to prevent the commission of further crimes* 
in the destruction of their respective flocks for their attachment 
to their pastors, have been obliged to fly their country, and to 
take refuge in the British dominions, where, their general exem- 
plary behaviour has greatly added to the compassion excited by 
their unmerited sufferings. * * * * 

"It is confidently hoped that a difference in religious persua- 
sion will not shut the hearts of the English public against their 
suffering brethren, the christians of France ; but that all true 
sons of the Church of England, all true subjects of our Saviour, 
Jesus Christ, who are not ashamed, in this time of apostacy or 
prevarication, to confess their obedience to, and imitation of 
their divine Master in their charity to their suffering brethren of 
all denominations — it is hoped, that all persons who from the 
inbred sentiments of a generous nature cultivate the virtues of 
humanity — it is hoped, that all persons attached to the cause of 
religious and civil liberty as it is connected with law and order 
—it is hoped, that all these will be gratified in having an oppor- 
tunity of contributing to the support of these worthy sufferers 
in the cause of honour, virtue, loyalty, and religion." (Mention 
is then made of the subscriptions for the people of Lisbon, after 
the earthquake, and the French prisoners of war, in 1761.) 

" We trust that such of our countrymen as were then alive 
are still mindful of their former virtue ; and that the generation 
which has succeeded is emulous of the good actions of their an- 
cestors. The gentlemen for whom this subscription is proposed, 
have never been guilty of any evil design against us. They have 
fled for refuge to this sanctuary. They are here under the sa- 
cred protection of hospitality. — Englishmen who cherish the vir- 
tue of hospitality, and who do not wish an hard and scanty con- 
struction of its laws, will not think it enough that such guests 



SOO ADDENDA. 

are in safety from the violence of their own countrymen, while 
they perish from our neglect. 

" These respectable sufferers are much greater objects of com- 
passion than soldiers and marirlers, men professionally formed to 
hardships, and the vicissitudes of life — our sufferers ^re men of 
peaceful, studious, uniform habits ; in a course of life entered 
into upon prospects and provisions held out by the laws, and by 
all men reputed certain. Perhaps of all persons in the world, 
they had the least reason to look fur imprisonment, exile, and 
famine. Englishmen will not argue crime from misfortune. 
They will have an awful feeling of the uncertain nature of all 
human prosperity. These men had their establishments t''0 ; 
they were protected by laws ; they were endowed with reve- 
nues. They had houses, they had estates. And it is but the 
other day that these very persons distributed alms in their own 
country, for whom, in their extreme necessities, alms are now 
requested in a foreign land." (The Bishop of St. Pol de Leon 
is proposed to distribute the subscription, as best acquainted with 
the wants and claims of the sufferers ; and a postscript is added) 
—"Since the drawing up of this case, many hundred of the 
clergy have been massacred at Paris, with the venerable Arch- 
bishop of Aries, a- prelate, the greatest ornament of the Galilean 
church in virtue and knowledge, and four other eminent and 
worthy bishops at their head. Some bishops, qnd a considerable 
number of the inferior clergy, are arrived, and are daily, and al- 
most hourly arriving, since that horrible slaughter." 



I N D E X. 



Abdiel, Mr. Burke compared to - Pagc-^ 352 

Abingdon, Earl of - - - 187 

Affairs, Heads for consideration on - 368 

Agency for New York - - 144 

America, Mr. Burke meditates going to - 64 

American conciliation, speech on - - 169 

Taxation, ditto - - 151 

Annual Register . - - 66 

Answers to Mr. Burke's Reflections - 344 

Appeal from new to old Whigs - - 347 

Arcot, Nabob, debts of - - 263 

Army Estimates, debate on - - 314 

Arts, Communication on the - - 246 

Auckland, Lord's, pamphlet - - 395 

Authorship - - - 61 

Ballitore - - - 21 

Barre, Colonel - - 195,242 

Barry, the painter - - 85,120,143,156 

letters to 108, 120, 121, 125, 126, 130, 157, 188 

Bath, Mr. Burke at - - - 57,413 

Beattie, Dr. - - - 143, 324 

Bedford, Duke of - - - 402 

Bolingbroke, Lord, imitation of - 52 

Boston Port Bill - - - 151 

Bourbons, Advice to the - - 375 

Bourke, Mr. VV. - - 60, 72, 190, 381 

Brissot's Address - - 381 

Bristol, Mr. Burke elected for - - 165 

rejected at - 21 6 

Brocklesby, Dr. - - 22, 44, 361 

Burgh, Thomas, Esq., letter to - 205 



50lS INDEX. 

Burke, Edmund, birth of - - Page 18 

■ 's benevolence 213, 214, 222, 224,240, 397 

compared with Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox 485 

conversation - - 426 

death, - - - 417 

disinterestedness - 102,107,238 

eloquence - - 281, 447 

=— — — — . first effort in Parliament - 95 

grief - - "390 

moral character - 431 

person - - 423 

piety - - - 430 

■' public principles - 475 

qualifications for Parliament - 104 

slanders concerning - 213, 410 

schools - - 20, 21 

wit - 179,189,204,209,438 

writings, - - 462 

zeal - - 434 

family of - - - 18 

Garrett - - 18 

Mrs. - - 58, 63, 419 

Richard - - 18,85,139,243,379 

, jun. - 65, 221, 264, 356, 364, 386 



• Thomas Haviland - - 19, 421 

Cannibal Republic - - _ 406 

Castletown Roche, - - 17, 20 

Catherine of Russia - - - 354 

Cazales, M. - - - 364.440 

Charlemont, Loid - - - 73, 104 

letters to ~ 180, 239, 287, 288, 297, 356 

Chatham, Lord - - - 100, 196 

Children, Mr. Burke's fondness for - 77 

Coalition Ministry - - - 241,243 

Conduct of the Minority - - 372 

Corporation and Test Acts - - 318 

Crabbe, Rev. Mr. - - 432 

Cruger, Mr. ... 157 

Curwen, Mr. - - - 345, 44S 

Dagger, produced by Mr. Burke - - 365 

Debates, publishing of - - 148 

Debi Sing, cruelties of - - 281 

Discontents, thoughts on - - 139 

Dissenters, relief of - - 144, 318, 362 



INDEX. 503 



Dunning, Mr. 
Djer, Mr. 



- Page 


208, 242 


- 


147 


206, 


222,' 238 


. 


244 




271 


- 


394 


- 


31 


- 


43 


- 


65 


- 


155 


_ 


182 


- 


182 


171, 244, 


, 324, 351 


. 


59 


- 


230, 240 



Economical reform 

Eden, Mr 

Ellenborough, Lord 

Elliot, Mr. letter to - 

Eneid 

England, Mr. Burke travels in 

English History, abridgment of 

Epitaph, jocular, on Mr. Burke 

proposed alteration of Goldsmith's 

on Mr. Dowdeswell 

Erskine, Lord 

European Settlements in America 

Eustatius, St. 

Fitzherbert, Mr. - - 92, 98 

Flood, Mr. - - - 28, 82 
Fox, Mr. - 135,171,234,336,365,369,441,486 

France visited by Mr. Burke, - - 64, 146 

Francis, Mr. letter to - - 190 

Franklin, Dr. - - 115, 175, 229, 232 

French affairs, memorial on - - 354 

Gentlemen of Bristol, two letters to - - 198 

Georgic, translation of part - - 32 

Gibbon, Mr. - - 209, 323, 374 

Goldsmith, Dr. - - - 88 

Goold, Serjeant - - * 463 

Gordon, Lord George - - 211 

Gregories, estate of - - 108 

Hamilton, Mr. Gerard - 74, 80, 319, 442 

Hartley, Mr. - - - 172 

Hardy, Mr. - - - 289 

Hastings, Mr., prosecution of - 264 

character of - - 278 

Haviland, General - - 420 

Mrs. - . , - 422 

Historical Society - - 37 

House of Commons, character of - - 149 

Howard, Mr* - - - 218 

Hume, Mr. - \ - 70 

Hutcheson, Dr. Francis - - 45 



504 INDEX. 

India Bill - . Page Sir 
Mr. Burke's speech on - 248 

Indians, employment of - - 194 

Ireland, trade of - - 197 

— visited bj Mr. Burke - 84, 103, 286 

Irish Absentee tax - - 150 
propositions . . - 262 

Johnson, Dr. - - - 68, 257, 439 

; and Mr. Burke compared - 161 

Junius - - , - 116 

Jury bill - - . 142, 349 

Kenmare, Lord - • - 76,231 

Keppel, Admiral - . . goo 

Killmacleny, Spenser's Castle - 17, 20 

Langrishe, Sir Hercules, letters to - - 357, 394 

Lauderdale, Earl of - - 400 

Laurens, Hon. H. - - 231, 232, 330 

Law and Lawyers - - 351 

Leadbeater, Mrs. - - 21, 258, 366, 414 

Lectures oii Commerce - - 257 

Letter to Sheriffs of Bristol - - 186 

Levis, Duke de - • - 459 

Libels, despised by Mr. Burke - - 226 

Literary Club - - - 87 

Logan, Rev. Mr. - - - 224 

LondoH, Mr. Burke's first visit to - 39 

Mackintosh, Sir James - - 330 

Macartney, Lord - - 60, 221, 399 

Malton - - - - 219 

Margate,. anecdote of Mr. Burke at - ' 352 

Marriage act - - - 225 

Meath, Bishop of - - 82,391,416 

Menonville, M. de, letters to - - 308,311 

Metaphysics and Metaphysicians - 144 

Middle Temple, Mr. Burke's entry at - 38 

Mirabeau, M. de - - 440 

Montesquieu, M. de - - - 313 

Montmorin, M.de, proposed memorial to - ' 335 

Morning Chronicle, paragraph in - - 347 

Moser, Mr. letter to - 272 



INDEX. 505 

Murphy, Mr. - - Page 50, 376 

Nagle, Sir Edmund - - 18 
National Assembly, letter to a member of > 334 
Negro Code - - - 361 
Noble Lord, letter to - - - 400 
Noble, Mr. - - - 219, 220 
North, Lord - 148, 195, 204, 205, 207, 245 
Nugent, Dr. - - - 57, 177 
Miss - - -57 

Obedience to constituents questioned - 165 

Oiner's, St. reports of Mr. Burke being at - 48 

Oxford, Mr. Burke at - - 374 

Paine, Thomas ... 339 

Parliamentary Reform - - 246, 261 

Parr, Dr. - - 290, 442, 490 

Party, choice of - - 236 

favouring French Revolution - 325 

Patronage - - - 112 

Peerage proposed to Mr. Burke - - 392 

Pelissier, Dr. - - - 28" 

Pensions to Mr. Burke - - 78, 397 

Pitt, Mrs. Ann - - - 70 
Pitt, Mr. - 250, 295, 315, S36, 362, 370, 408, 486 

Plaistow, Mr. Burke at - - 71 

Poet, distressed - - . 223 

Poetry of Mr. Burke - - 32, 36 

Policy of the Allies, remarks on - - 375 

PortlanO, letter to the Duke of - 372 

— I party join Ministry - ,- 332 

Priestley, Dr. - - ■ - I75 
Print of Mr. Burke - . _ 353 
his son - - 392 

Regency, question of the - - 2^2 

Regicidfc Peace, letters on - - 404 

Revolution in Fiance - - 301, 306, 308, SU 

. JVlr. Burke's first opinions on 306, 308, 31 1 

Reflections on, published 321 

in Poland - . 328 

Reynolds, Sir Joshua - - 352,357 

Rigiits of Man - - - 332 

Rioters, interceded for - - 212 

3 S 



006 INDEX. 

Robertson, Dr. letter to - - Page 192 

Robin Hood Debating Society - 87 

Rockingham, • arquis of - 101, 184, 24l, 290 

Rodney, Admiral - - 221, 240 
Roman Catholics - 199, 231,352, 355, 356, 393, 394 

Rousseau characterised - - 313 

Scarcity, thoughts on - - - 295 

Scotsmen, opinion of - - 256 

Shackleton, family of - - - 21 

Richard - 21, 43, 212, 258, 336 

Shelburne, Lord - - 236,237,241,244 

Sheridan, Mr. - 227, 276, 285, 316, 490 

Short Account of a Short Administration - 102 

Simkin's Letters - - 271 

Slave Trade - - - 214 

Sleigh, Dr. - - - 23, 44 

Smith, Dr, Adam - • - - 71 

Baron, letter to - - 393 

State of the Nation, observations on - 115 

Statue proposed to Mr. Burke - - 199 

Statute of Edward L - - - 179 

Stewart, Dugald, Esq. - - 45, 47, 256 

Sublime and Beautiful, Essay on - -55 

Swinish Multitude, phrase of - - 326 

Thurlow, Lord - - - 296, 439 

Tacitus, style of - - ^77 

University of Dublin - - - 27, 29 

Address from - 322 

University of Glasgow - - 47,256 

. — Oxford, Address from - - 323 

visited by Mr. Burke 374 

Valenciennes, surrender of - - 374 

Verney, Lord - - - 201 

Vindication of Natural Society - 52 

Voltaire - - - 313 

Wales, R. H. Prince of - - 297, 299, 362 

Watson, Bishop . - - 226 

War, revolutionary - - 369 

Wilberforce, Mr. - - - 444 



INDEX. &07 

Wilkes, Mr. - - Page 98, 1 14 

Windham, Mr. - - ' - 386, 540 

Winstanley, Rev. Mr. - - 374 

Woffington, Mrs. - - - 50 

Wolf, shearing the - - 230 

Woronzow, Count de - - 354 

York, Archbishop of - - 274 



THE END. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



020 680 615 1 



